


And I like the way the sun feels

by kohiru



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, F/F, Polyamory, Slow Burn, Soft nerds falling in love, reuploaded
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-17 00:19:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 41,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13647453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kohiru/pseuds/kohiru
Summary: Lexa isn't quite ready to accept life is a reality now but she's doing what she can. She moves through life like a robot on autopilot and although nothing feels forced anymore, she still feels an aching emptiness in her chest, right down to her bones. Life is just...happening and she's caught up in the flow of it, no will to break free from the routine on university and work.Then Anya brings home a pretty blonde tattoo artist and slowly Lexa beings to feel warmth in her veins and love in her soul again with help from two of the gentlest souls she's ever had the luck of finding.- Reuploaded, unsure if I'll work on it more but we'll see.





	1. Overload

Its loud. She knows its to be expected, it is a party after all, but the sheer depth of noise is almost too much. The entire room is a sensory overload – movement and noise and smells flooding over her and smothering any feelings of ease she had previously held.

She liked parties, liked hanging out with friends and warmth of the rooms, the ability to let loose on the rare occasion that work and classes break from routine and leave her with a weekend free so she can pretend like the world is non-existent outside of the apartment. Normally she’d be in the group in the kitchen, talking and laughing and passing a joint around, but today she’s too on edge and everything is too much and she just really really needed to get the hell out of there. She’s had this before and knows the warning signs, knows that she needs to separate herself before it comes worse. She needs her lifeline, needs Anya and fresh air and something to quiet the thumping in her head and chest. Everything is pressing down on her, so much so that even her clothes feel like coarse sandpaper against her skin and she desperately needs a shower and the feel of her blanket and Anya's leather jacket.

Lexa struggles to manoeuvre through the crowds, too many bodies packed into a too small apartment. Its hard going, especially when her hands shake and her voice is unable to raise above the music blasting from the speakers. She’s resolute though, strong too and eventually she’s shoved enough drunks and stoners out of her way to make it to the kitchen.

Anya is sitting on the kitchen counter, trademark smirk upon her lips as she looks down at a ridiculously beautiful yet somewhat familiar blonde who is leaning with arms crossed over Anya's knees and looking up to her with a sultry gaze. Lexa feels herself stop because, despite the very public location, this situation seemed far more intimate and private than she anticipated and despite the trembling of her limbs and the short gasps of breath she’s drawing into her lungs, she takes a step back and crams herself into a corner, where she can watch but be separate, isolated. Anya's body language shows utter relaxation and trust and its not something Lexa has seen outside of the apartment before. She tries to move her eyes away but finds that having them as a fixed point helps neutralise the nauseating feeling of seeing and feeling the movement of other people in the room. The noise is more subdued too, thanks to the kitchen door, but its still loud and busy and she knows she should close her eyes but she just can’t tear her gaze away from her best friend and the stunning girl, whose hands are starting to move with purpose over dark jeans towards Anya’s thighs. Their faces have drawn close, noses a hairs width away and Lexa finally forces her eyes closed because this was all too much and she can feel the ghost of fingers over her own skin, spectres long gone shifting against flesh and christ, her head was swimming and she knows there’s been some bud smoked in this room, the smell sitting heavily in the humid air.

She doesn’t know how long she stands there, leaning against the wall in the kitchen with her eyes clamped shut as she tries to regulate her breathing. It feels like both hours and seconds and when a hand touches her shoulder lightly, she startles with a loud gasp.

“Hey hey, relax. I’m sorry I didn’t see you earlier. What are you at right now?” Anya’s voice is soft, despite the noise, close enough to breathe the scent of beer and burgers over her face. Her stomach churns.

“Rising again. 6? 7.” She stutters out, bringing up her hands to touch Anya’s and the other woman nods, face turning determined as she glances over her shoulder to the blonde woman from before who is standing a few steps away, looking worried.

“Can you get Raven to turn the music down, Griff?” Though voiced like a question, its obvious Anya’s words are a demand but the other woman seems unbothered by it and nods before heading off to the other room. A few minutes later the music turns down before stopping entirely. Lexa feels like a weight has been lifted from her chest, from her stomach and for a moment the lack of noise makes her head spin. She swallows down the nausea from her sudden light-headedness and grips at Anya’s forearm as her best friend wraps her in a hug. She’s slightly taller, an all- encompassing presence that helps ground Lexa and slowly all her other senses seem to calm down, the panic easing away like the slow ebb of the tide.

“4.” She murmurs quietly and Anya moves away, though Lexa’s fingers linger, gripping at the leather jacket almost petulantly like a child afraid to leave its mother. The leather is well-worn, soft and no longer squeaky and the comfort it brings is like no other. The blonde is back, Lexa notices, leaning against the wall behind Anya and sipping on a beer. Her gaze is steady, eyes bright and almost too blue and there’s no judgement in them, no pity. She nods her head slightly as she raises the bottle to her lips and Lexa returns the gesture, hoping to convey her thanks without directly interacting.

“You want to go home? Its going to start winding down soon anyway.” Anya has always been her anchor in the storm, consistency in chaos and she loves her to pieces for it. She feels a small bubble of guilt at dragging Anya into yet another overload but she knows the other woman wouldn’t hear any apologies and so she nods, pushing away from the wall and running a still slightly shaking hand through her hair.

Anya turns to leave then pauses when she catches sight of the blonde waiting by the wall, not expecting her to hang around. She chances a small smile and the woman returns it, setting the beer to one side.

“Your friend okay now, Anya?” Her voice is low, a nice gravelly tone to it and Lexa has to suppress a shiver because damn she wasn’t expecting that. She tries to shoo the thought away – Anya has obviously been trying to woo this woman all night, so she wasn’t going to get involved. Or at least, more involved than she had already become by interrupting their flirting.

“She’s doing better but we’re going to head. You going to get home okay?”

The other girl shrugs. “I’ll find a way. Borrow some cash from O and get a taxi if I have to.”

Anya scowls at this and glances over her shoulder to Lexa, the debate in her mind obvious. Lexa had anticipated this, knows the original plan was probably for Anya to take this stranger back to theirs and she doesn’t want to interrupt anymore than she has. She nods gently, tries to force a small smile onto her face to reassure her that yeah, she could take this blond bombshell back to theirs and fuck her if she really wanted to. Now the moment has passed, Lexa is able to take care of herself - she just needs a blisteringly hot shower and looser clothes and probably 12 hours of sleep.

“You sure?” Anya finally asks in a quiet tone that only Lexa could hear and she can’t help but smile. Anya’s concern is a ridiculously endearing trait, because for all her rough words and scowling, she was a gentle soul at heart. Too caring, too warm, a naturally mothering woman and although it could become suffocating at times living with the constant reminders to eat healthy and take a jacket and go to bed at a decent time, she was grateful for the true nature of her best friend.

“Go ahead. Just, don’t use the couch, please.” The comment earns a smirk and a small nudge against her shoulder before Anya turns back to the other girl and begins talking, bringing a bright smile across the blonde’s face, those blue eyes darkening, though they flicker back to Lexa briefly. Finally she nods, kisses Anya quickly and turns to leave, Anya following suit and Lexa trailing behind with her hands in her pockets.

The trio make their way out through the apartment, saying goodbye to the occasional person. Raven gives the group a thumbs up as she heads back towards the sound system, obviously intent on turning the music on again and Lexa wonders who the gesture is actually for.

Its two hours later and Lexa’s slouched on the sofa, headphones on and a playstation controller in her hand. They’d gotten back and she’d excused herself for a shower and returned afterwards to find Anya’s hand down the blonde’s pants and lips on her neck, their bodies pressed tightly together with the blonde bending slightly where her back was pressed against the kitchen counter. When heavy-lidded blue eyes met hers, Lexa had felt everything burn at once, like being doused in gasoline and she’d shot to her bedroom in a panic, feeling the blood rush in equal parts to her cheeks and her groin. She was slumped on her bed for a while, trying to force herself to doze off with a hand over her eyes, before she heard the door of the bedroom beside hers slam shut and the creak of bedsprings and she knew sleep was going to be something absent for all of them. With the noise too loud, too close in her bedroom she had moved back to the living room, thankful for the space of the hallway to muffle the activities and provide her with a small respite.

She grunts in frustration as she dies again in game and lets the controller drop to the floor,

throwing an arm over her face in defeat and exhaustion. Its not the first time this has happened, but she doesn’t hold any resentment towards Anya or the stranger for it. She’s just as guilty from bringing girls back from parties on occasion and she knows damn well that they’re just as loud as Anya is currently being. She rolls onto her side and scoops up the controller again with a sigh and goes back to the game. Nothing like a bit of mindless medieval-styled violence to keep her mind off the fact that her best friend is having rough sex with a very gorgeous woman only a room away.

Its another hour later and she’s given up on the game now that the noises from the room have quelled. She’s pulled a blanket over her shivering body and turned the TV off, trying desperately to let her exhausted body rest. She’s not sure if she’s shivering because she’s cold or because she knows that her body is demanding sleep but either way, she pulls the soft material tighter around her shoulders and sighs. Its been a while since she’s slept like this on the couch, usually having dragged herself back to her room by now but she just can’t bring herself to do that tonight. Her eyes are growing heavy, lids drooping when suddenly a weight lands on the sofa next to her legs and she glances up, rude remark ready but it quickly dies on her tongue when she catches sight of bruised creamy skin covered where it matters by a thin sheet.

“Hey.”

She gulps, tries to will her eyes to move away from a particularly large hickey on her neck but they refuse to cooperate.

“Hey.” She finally croaks out in response and the blonde grins softly.

“Sorry if we kept you up. This has been a long time coming. “ The blonde yawns widely, stretching her legs out and wriggling her toes as she smiles. Its not the expression she’s seen on some of Anya’s previous conquests, its softer, its deeper and suddenly she wonders just how long the two had been waiting to fall into bed together. Lexa decides she doesn’t want to know the intricacies of her best friend's romantic or sexual relationships and settles for shrugging lightly.

A silence settles over them, though its not entirely awkward and Lexa feels herself starting to drift off again when the blonde speaks again.

“I’m Clarke. Seen you in the library a few times. Sports Psychology, right?”

Lexa wants to whine, wants to demand this stranger, this Clarke, just go and leave her to sleep considering it was around 4am, but her curiosity is piqued and she knows if she doesn’t get the standard introduction questions out the way now, she’ll have to deal with them eventually.

“Yeah, its pretty interesting. Better than Business and Accounting I studied when I started.” She yawns widely, lifting the blanket up to muffle the noise. “I’m Lexa, though I assume you already know that.”

Clarke hums in response, lets the sheet slip a little as she reaches up to rub at sleepy eyes. “Anya talks about you a lot. She loves you to pieces.”

Whatever she had expected Clarke to say next, it wasn’t that. She blinks incredulously at the blonde before grunting and sitting up a bit more. “Yeah?”

“Mmm. Apparently your abs are fantastic and its entirely unfair, but at least you can’t cook for shit so she has that over you.” She’s turned to look at Lexa now, those distinctive eyes looking far too tired to really still be open, lids drooping as sleep tries to grip her. Lexa is sure she’s in a similar state.

“Her biceps are bigger,” is the first thing out of her mouth before she shuffles back down to get more comfy, “though don’t know what she’s on about with the cooking bullshit. I’m fantastic.” Her voice is thick with sleep and she is truly struggling now, desperately hoping that Clark will go back to Anya’s bed and leave her to sleep, though listening to her deep, sleep roughened voice was incredibly nice. “Though I’m much better at sleeping.”

Clark laughs, a melodic noise, too cheerful and too loose and so very unlike the tight chuckles Lexa affords. “I take the hint.” She stands, stretches again, though she keeps on arm wrapped around her torso to keep her modesty. Lexa resolutely aims her gaze down at the floor as the sheet rises and exposes far too much thigh. “Goodnight Lexa. Sleep well.”

“Yeah, goodnight Clarke”.


	2. Maelstrom

The months pass and Clarke becomes something of a common sight in their apartment. At first she just appeared in the late evenings, occasionally catching dinner before they retreated to bed and Lexa settles down to the couch but then she’s there on her days off, sitting and watching TV or sketching in her books or even just watching Lexa play videogames.

The change in routine irked her at first, but she soon realised that it wasn’t a huge change and even found herself surprised at missing the presence of Clarke on the occasion when she doesn’t turn up and she instinctively now sits on the floor so Anya and Clarke have the space to snuggle on the couch.

She and Clarke interact fairly often and she has to admit, its easy to be the blonde’s friend. She has an ease about her, welcoming and loving and its everything Lexa needs in a friend right now. They talk about music and university and work and politics and history and everything under the sun. Their chats happen usually in the afternoon but occasionally late at night, when Clarke comes out to tell Lexa to go to her bed and get some proper rest, similar to that first night. She learns a lot about the blonde – how she had dropped out of pre-med when her dad died, took up a job as a tattooist’s apprentice when she wasn’t getting any commissions for her art, what her favourite food is, why she prefers charcoal to paints, that she was a total frat boy when she was in college, her first pet, her favourite book – anything and everything. Lexa doesn’t give too much in return – there’s not much to give in her opinion. She’s not that interesting – she works in retail for remedial pay because it’s the only thing available and studies because that’s what she’s expected to do.

Their easy camaraderie seems to please Anya, who joins in their conversations with compliments and jokes about all of them. She’s greets Clarke with infinite patience and a new gentleness that Lexa has only seen briefly before. They talk in quiet voices, filled with love and warmth and affection. There’s a playfulness to their tones and occasionally shyness, something she’d never seen on Anya before. Its endearing to watch, but it also leaves Lexa feeling just that little bit emptier than before, to see what they have that she has never had, what she believes she never will.

Anya seems happier though, there’s no two ways about it. It would be hard for a stranger to notice, but she can see it easily. There’s a softness to her expressions, her entire being less tense and aggressive. She doesn’t snap at stupid questions, is more patient with her customers as she shows them how to use the machines in the gym and follow the plan she’s given them. Lexa observes her and over time, decides that she likes Anya in love. This Anya is just a bit brighter than normal and smiles are more genuine, more frequent. Its like seeing the sun break through the clouds more often during Spring, letting you know that Summer is on its way.

Finals crash into her life with a bang and suddenly the monotonous flow of life is a mass of chaos and panic. She’s scared, because although she’s been to classes and submitted essays, she doesn’t feel like she really knows anything.

Its 2am and she’s sat on the floor of the living room, bundled in three blankets and surrounded by thick textbooks. Her psychology exam is in two days time and her mind is desperately trying to cling to names and dates and anything else she thinks she needs to know. Her laptop is open in front of her, the screen dimmed slightly and she scrolls with conviction over a spreadsheet of results from a study almost twenty years old. She tries to take it in, going over and over and over the words and numbers, copying them down by hand into a battered notebook. She can feel the anxiety rippling through her, a stone chucked into a pond that disrupts the stillness.

She’s got two days and she knows nothing. She can’t remember anything, nothing is sticking. She looks down at the notebook and realises she doesn’t even remember writing the last page. She can feel her body start to shake and tries to count back from 10 to help calm herself down. Deep breaths, in and out, in and out and hold and in and hold and out. She follows the rhythm which is instinctive by now until she feels her thundering heart steady and her hands dreadful shake slow to a light tremble. With an attack staved off, she tries to organise her notes, to find something that she’s sure of to start on, to try and fool herself into being more confident about this subject than she was.

She falls into a good concentration for a while, feeling her confidence growing until she knocks a half-filled glass of water over and then suddenly everything break loose in her mind. A sob croaks out from her throat and she feels tears break free from tired eyes and although she feels ridiculously stupid for crying over such a thing, she can’t hold back the torrent, and the next thing she knows is that she’s lying on the floor, face pressed into the carpet as she tries desperately to muffle the sobs in the hopes that she wont wake either Clarke or Anya. She’s close to hyperventilating, drawing in loud gasping breaths and she wants nothing more than to throw herself off a bridge in that moment.

What use is she, this broken, pathetic excuse of a human, to continue to exist, to take up resources that other people so desperately need? Who is she, tear-stained and devoid of happiness, to keep

forcing her presence into other people’s lives? She can’t even study, can’t even be trusted to leave a fucking glass of water on the table. Ridiculous, wretched, pathetic. She sobs loudly as the thoughts swirl, maelstrom in her head flood down into her lungs, icy cold grip on her chest, on her heart. She’s lost at sea of her self-loathing, so much so that she doesn’t hear the door opening and footsteps leading to the living room where he’s losing herself.

“Lexa? Oh no, Lex, shhh. Come on beautiful, get up, its okay, its okay.” Clarke’s fingers peel back the blankets with trepidation, her voice so quiet as if she was worried she would scare her away and Lexa tries desperately to curl in on herself, to shield her tears, her weakness from this ray of sunshine. Anya appears a few minutes later and crouches down to observe her for a few minutes before reacting with an assurance Clarke doesn't have, scooping Lexa up in her arms.

Its an odd feeling and Lexa tries to fight it at first but she’s exhausted, physically and mentally and eventually she just ends up gripping at the loose sleep shirt Anya wears, face pressing tightly into a tattooed shoulder. Her sobs quiet down to hiccups by the time Anya sets her down on her bed and Clarke is there almost instantly when Anya moves away, wiping a cool, slightly damp washcloth across the salt trails on her cheeks. Her touch is still gentle, barely there but the coarseness of the washcloth is grounding and soothing at the same time and the cool water is appreciated against her heated cheeks. Her eyes are still clamped shut, because she can’t bare to open them right now, can’t bare to see the pity and sadness she knows will be present in blue and brown gazes.

Clarke moves away finally and the bed dips behind her. There’s arms moving around her, drawing her down into a warm embrace and she feels a small spark burn to life under her lungs. Whether its borne of pity and the feeling of responsibility or true affection, the gentle treatment from the two other girls is soothing and warming and the ache is slowly easing away as her tears slow to a stop. Anya’s stroking her hair, murmuring quiet little phrases in Vietnamese as she knows it’s the tone Lexa needs right now, not the words. Lexa feels herself root back to the ground, back to reality and she feels so ashamed for the display, so panicked and she starts to pull away, desperate to escape, to retreat, when suddenly another body closes in and then she’s trapped in two embraces instead of the usual one.

She goes rigid, trying her best not to show the panic, but Clarke is ridiculously hot against her back and her arms have wrapped around her waist, holding her tight almost like a child with a teddy bear but the action isn’t suffocating. She can feel the soft draft of breath on the back of her neck, fine hairs standing on end and swears for a moment lips brush against the top of her spine but its hard to tell when there’s so much happening and she doesn’t know what to concentrate on.

She’s never felt this enveloped, this cared for. This safe.

The demons are chased away, if only for the time being and slowly her eyes droop as her breathing becomes deep and regular. She’s nearly completely dragged under by her exhaustion when she hears a voice speak up quietly from behind her.

“Does this happen often?”

Clarke sounds muffled, but she doesn’t feel her breath, knows she must have her head lifted up to look at Anya.

Lexa tries her best to keep her breathing slow and steady, to mimic sleep as she learnt to do as a child. She feels Anya shift slightly, arm draping across Lexa to touch Clarke’s cheek briefly, before moving down to thread their fingers together over Lexa’s stomach.

“They’re here and there. More frequent when she doesn’t take her medication, more intense when she’s stressed.” A deep sigh and she feels Anya move almost impossibly closer, feels the pillow her head is resting on dip as Anya’s falls next to her. “I worry so much.”

Lexa feels her stomach clench with guilt, worries they would feel it under their joint hands but neither seems to react. She knows Anya worries, can see it when she hovers behind her on occasion, when she stares across the gym, when she sits for two hours, reading a book in the little café Lexa works in on Saturdays. She’s always worried, but to hear the words out loud, to hear them so full of sadness and helplessness, is something she had never anticipated. It makes her lungs feel heavy, makes her already sore throat tight and her breathing speeds up again unwilling. She tries to fight against it but as soon as it begins there’s suddenly soft skin brushing over her exposed back, where her shirt has ridden up from the press of bodies. Clarke’s voice is low and rumbling in her ears as she soothes to the best of her ability; spiralling trails of fingertips that leave a scorching path in their wake, gentle affirmations that she’s okay and everything is fine and she just needs to rest and that she’s so brave. That one sets her off again, the sob that rips from her throat something almost primal in its pain and the two press closer, fingers unclasping so Anya can stroke her cheek and Clarke splays fingers across her spasming stomach.

She doesn’t know when she finally stops crying, when she finally shuts down and accepts sleep, but when she wakes up its 12pm in the afternoon and although Clarke is missing, Anya is still wrapped protectively around her, tall frame and lean muscle making a cage to protect her from the outside world. Lexa lies there for a few minutes, just revelling in the fact that she feels so protected and trying her best not to cry again. Anya has one arm around her, palm pressed between Lexa’s shoulder blades and the other stretched out in front of her, holding up her phone that she reads over Lexa’s shoulder.

“Thank you.” Her voice sounds thick and painful – foreign to her own ears but Anya response with nothing more than her usual crooked smile and a soft kiss to the crown of her head. She sighs deeply, thinks about moving away because she needs to study, needs to catch up on what she’d missed. All her muscles are tense and Anya’s fingertips are starting to press down gently, to sooth the muscle back to relaxation.

“I called your professor and the doctor. You can take your final with the resits in a month and they’ll treat it like a first attempt.” Anya’s arm drops, letting her phone slip from her grasp as she brings the previously stretched out arm to wrap her up in another hug. “Please go back on the meds, or at least, go to the doctor to get different ones. Just...something.” Her voice is strained, Lexa knows she’s holding back some emotions here but doesn’t call her out on it. She doesn’t respond to the plea, just tilts her head down a bit more and closes her eyes.

Silence falls again for a few more minutes, Lexa curled up on herself with Anya’s arms around her and nose pressed to her temple, before finally Lexa relaxes and moves her arms around Anya to return the embrace.

“Is Clarke okay?” She needs to know she hasn’t scared her away, needs to know she hasn’t banished the sunshine from their little storm, hasn’t ruined the one happiest thing Anya has going for her.

“She’s fine. Worried about you. She’s only working a half-shift today, she should be home soon with lunch.”

Lexa doesn’t comment on the use of the word ‘home’ because she already knows that this apartment is every bit of Clarke’s home as it is Lexa’s or Anya’s. There’s an easel set up in the corner by the fire escape window, a pair of her shoes by the door, her ridiculously expensive shampoo in the shower, her guitar on a stand in the corner next to the TV and some of her video games stacked on the shelf next to Lexa’s.

“Take-out?” Lexa asks, hopeful and almost child-like and Anya responds with a soft laugh that Lexa both hears and feels rumbling through her chest. She feels like flowers a blossoming in her ribs, seeming into the cracks to soften the ache. Its amazing what just one sounds can do.

“Of course. Now get some more rest – she wont be back for another hour or so and I can’t be bothered moving.”

She forces out a small chuckle of her own before following Anya’s advice and snuggling down under the light sheet that’s been pulled over them. She notices briefly that Anya is wearing a pair of yoga pants and a different shirt and she smells faintly of Clarke’s shampoo, so she must’ve gotten up at some point and Lexa wonders just how bad she smells, before Anya’s legs shift to tangle with her own and all thought of anything but her anchor goes out the window.


	3. Arousal

Summer comes in with a sweltering heatwave followed by a week of solid thunderstorms. The muggy air is hell to work in and Lexa's hair frizzes immediately after she leaves the apartment, so she begins to keep it up in a bun or braided.

Her exam passed by uneventfully - both Anya and Clarke sat with her while she studied (though Clarke fell asleep slumped in Anya's lap after the first hour) and she felt more confident going in than she had during the semester. Her results wouldn't be out until August because of the later sitting so she pushes it to the back of her mind and continues on with life, picking up extra shifts at both the store and the cafe while she can. She's on a night shift tonight, starting at 9pm and finishing at 5am, so she's luckily slept through the hottest part of the day. She wakes around 3pm to the gentle strumming of a guitar and knows that Clarke must be there because Anya was tone deaf and thus barred from touching any musical instrument every again.

She rolls out of bed and straight into the bathroom, not even bothering to put a shirt on. It's too hot for night clothes and she's taken to sleeping only in her pants to avoid any overloads from the clammy heat that comes from wearing a night shirt.

Despite the noise of the shower, the creaking pipes and hammering of the water on ceramic, Lexa can still hear the guitar and now, Clarke's voice singing along. That voice is ridiculously attractive, husky and deep even when accompanied by a fast tune and it sends heat pooling in Lexa's stomach. She closes her eyes, lets her head fall back against the wall of the shower and can feel her hand absently drifting over her skin, across her abs and hipbones, up thighs and pelvis before she drags a lazy finger over her clit. She's tuned out the noise of the shower, concentrating on the voice husking an old R&B song in the other room. She picks up speed, moving her fingers with purpose as the tone of Clarke’s voice becomes something decided sultry and the lyrics become mildly crude and oh good god she was masturbating to her best friend's girlfriend singing. This was a new low.

She closes her eyes and groans, stilling her own hand because she can't rightly do this, not with Clarke so close by, not with her oblivious in the other room, not with how supportive and kind she's been. She had no obligation to be Lexa's friend (and she's sure Anya made that clear after the first night) but she had done so anyway and easily become one of the best friends Lexa has ever had, easily in the same tier as Anya, who she’d known since childhood.

With a sigh, she twists the temperature down to cold and revels in the icy water battering against too hot skin. Her sensitivity drops and eventually, when she's no longer aroused and the flush on her chest and neck had faded, she turns it off and leaves the shower, wrapping her towel around herself absently as she notices that the music had stopped.

When she opens the door, Clarke is standing right there, leaning against the wall opposite and looking at her phone. She's dressed for the heat in sinfully short shorts and a baggy tank top and when Lexa glances briefly at her chest, it's easy to see she's not wearing a bra and the previously banished flush makes a comeback straight up to the tips of her ears.

Clarke glances up and smiles, that infuriatingly beautiful smile that seems to be made of all the good things in the world, unparalleled in its brightness. "You were in there for a while. Worried you'd fallen or something."

Lexa rolls her eyes, because it's the only action she can comprehend at this point and moves toward her room. "It's too hot. I didn't want to leave the cold water."

Clarke's laughter follows her as she shuts her door and leans against it with a sigh. She couldn't call her attraction to Clarke anything more than just that - pure sexual attraction. The girl is hot, Lexa is gay, it's not rocket science to figure out what's going on in her mind every time she seems too much flesh or sparkling blue eyes.

She's ashamed of it though, this primal want because this is Clarke. This is her friend, her best friend's better half and she has no right to think such things, to let her gaze liger too long on exposed cleavage or smooth thighs, to imagine those calloused fingers drifting over her skin.

She's too hot again, filled with pent up energy and she knows there's only one way to get rid of it without resorting to touching herself again. She gets changed quickly into her gym clothes - a sports bra and a pair of yoga pants - and grabs her running bottle, phone and headphones. The armband that holds her phone is a fiddly thing but it's also a godsend because without it she'd have to listen to the sound of the streets on her run and it would probably send her over the edge.

When she enters the living room, Clarke is slumped on the sofa, guitar resting on her stomach where she plucks lazily at the strings and a desk fan is on the table in front of her, making her hair flutter. The TV is on, but the sound is muted, some sort of reality show playing and Lexa wants to snap at Clarke and tell her to turn the damn TV off if she isn't going to watch it. But that would involve interaction with the blonde and she's already on edge, so she just breezes past behind the sofa straight into the kitchen to fill up her water bottle.

When she turns around to leave, Clarke's head snaps to the side, eyes looking guiltily down and Lexa frowns, wondering why she'd been looking in her direction in the first place.

"Just heading for a run. I'm gonna stop over at the gym, meet up with Anya for the end of her shift."

Clarke glances up and nods, setting her guitar on the floor so she can roll over onto her stomach and look over the armrest at Lexa. "Will you guys get take-out for dinner?"

Lexa's mouth is already open to say that she had planned to make stir fry for dinner anyway, but Clarke's eyes are wide and hopeful and goddamn how was she supposed to say no to that?

"Maybe." She responds, mouth dry.

Clarke accepts the answer and nods before returning to her previous position. "Have a good run! Don't die of heatstroke."

There's something freeing about running down the streets to her playlist of loud rock music. The flat ground sends shockwaves up to her thighs with each stride and the draft created by her speed quickly cools the sweat upon her skin.

She moves down her usual route through the local park at the centre of town, around the small duck pond and past the children's playground, toward the business sector where the gym Anya works at is located. She likes this path, especially in summer because the whole area is full of life. There's other runners, who she trades a small nod of acknowledgement with, elderly couples resting on the benches in the shade, groups of teenagers sitting in the grass and laughing, excitable children rushing from swing to slide and back again. It's like an area out with of time, outside of reality where people of all ages can be content and happy.

When she enters the gym, she pulls her headphones out and drapes them around her neck while the receptionist glances up with a smile of recognition. "Hey Lexa, Anya's currently in the spin class, she should be finished in around 15 minutes."

She smiles politely and nods, slumping down into a seat and groaning as her muscles complain at the sudden change of pace. "Thanks Harper. You wouldn't happen to have a spare towel behind that desk would you?"

The other girl laughs and chucks one over to Lexa, having already predicted the need for one as soon as she had entered. Lexa grins and wipes at her neck, shoulders and face, feeling infinitely better without the cooling sweat on her skin.

The wait for Anya is filled with idle small talk with Harper, and the occasional greeting to a regular or training that she knows through Anya.

At one point Octavia appears, eyes bright and excited when she sees Lexa lounging in the waiting chairs. They're not friends, acquaintances mostly but Lexa has to admit the girl seems nice enough and she knows she's friends with Raven which makes her a decent person in Lexa's books.

"Good to see you haven't lost muscle despite avoiding this place for a month." There's no maliciousness to the tone, just a gentle teasing that reminds her briefly of Clarke and brings a smile to her face.

"Shame you haven't gained any muscle, despite coming here constantly for the past month." It's not a dig in the slightest, because the girl has a different build to herself and Anya, where the muscle seems to settle across her limbs rather than her torso and once you reach a comfortable peak, it doesn't grow. She laughs kicking at Lexa's leg playfully before dropping into the seat next to her.

"So hear you have a new roommate. Can't believe Anya of all people is all loved up but what can I say? If it means she doesn't yell at me as much I'm not going to argue." Octavia laughs again, looking at Lexa and not the door to the private rooms where they hold classes. She oblivious to Anya, who has wandered through and is now leaning against the front desk with her arms folded and a deep scowl across her face. Harper has shuffled toward the backrooom, a hand over her face to hold back her laughter.

"I guess people probably said the same about me with Lincoln but damn, whenever we talkin the break room it’s always 'Clarke did this, Clarke did that. Blah blah blah I love her eyes, she has great tits, did you see the tattoo she gave me.' She's whipped." She sighs almost wistfully. "Then again, can you blame her? Clarke is ridiculous, she can't be human. Then again, neither can Anya with those cheekbones and that body. And you," she murmurs, looking Lexa over. "All of you are

unfairly attractive. I'm starting to think this is a government conspiracy. Is that why you all live in the same apartment, so you don't show up us humble sixes?"

Lexa is grinning, glancing over to Anya during the middle of Octavia's rant to see the usually stoic woman struggling to school her emotions. There's a blush across her cheeks, embarrassment and anger in her expression, but Lexa can also see a little bit of pride, of happiness that creases the corner of her eyes.

"At least I haven't been caught making out in the storage cupboard."

As soon as Anya speaks up, Octavia's face goes pale. She turns in her seat slowly, like she's an actress in a horror movie about to meet the monster.

"One time!" She blusters and Lexa can't help but laugh, especially as Harper lets out a loud guffaw. "One time and never again! Raven hasn't been back here since, she's absolutely petrified you'll string her up outside like a wanting to others!"

Lexa chokes at that because she wasn't aware of any kind of intimate relationship between Octavia and Raven but now that the idea is out there, it isn't all that shocking. The two were close, with few boundaries and Raven certainly gains a set of heart eyes whenever the other brunette is around.

Anya chuckles at the defensive response, slinging her bag over one shoulder and gesturing for Lexa to follow. "I'll see you later kid," she calls over her shoulder to Octavia, "and for the record, you're at least a seven, according to Raven and a nine according to Lincoln, though he counts in personality than looks." Octavia brightens a little at Anya's words, stands up to wave goodbye, though Anya has one last thing to say. "But next time you want to talk about how hot my girlfriend is, try not to do it when I'm about."

Octavia looks thoroughly chastised as she gets up and heads back to the main floor, Harper looking after her with equal parts amusement and pity.

They take the shorter path back, because Anya had the bag and Lexa is already starting to feel and bit tired and she still has a long shift ahead of her. It's only twenty minutes tops, including a stop over at the Chinese take-out, where Clarke had already phoned ahead with an order.

They walk through the door chatting animatedly about the newest episode of Game of Thrones

and Lexa notices Clarke out the corner of her eye sitting up and but straighter and staring dead at them. She lets the conversation die off, nudging Anya with her shoulder because Clarke looks about ready to devour something and whether the huger is for Anya or the Chinese food she carries is hard to decipher.

Anya swallows thickly, eyes trained on Clark's and there's and electricity in the room, thick and cloying. Lexa feels like a third wheel, a sudden weight in the situation but she can also see that the two woman can't even see her with how caught up in each other their gazes are. She slips away quickly, deciding to take another quick shower to get rid of the sweat and make her feel clean for getting into her uniform of polo shirt, cap and slacks. It's not a glamorous job, boring and routine with an equally as mundane uniform, but it pays well and she doesn't have to talk to anyone - they're happy for her to listen to her music as she helps check in the delivery and set the stock up.

When she leaves her room, the shower is on again and both Clarke and Anya are nowhere to be seen. She sits down on the sofa and starts opening then white cartons until she finds her Lo Mein and switches the TV back on to try and distract her from the knowledge that the other two are probably fucking in the shower.

It works for a while until she hears a loud groan echoed down the hallway and she feels her throat go dry. Against her will, her body strains to hear what else is being said but everything is muffled by the rush of blood in her ears.

"Shit Anya, stop teasing and fuck me already!"

Lexa can barely breathe, letting a shrimp fall from her chopsticks, mouth open slackly in shock. They're not normally this loud, other sounds from the apartment and TV usually enough to drown them out, but the long moan and then following scream almost rattles the windows in their loudness. She can feel herself growing aroused again and groans quietly to herself. She needs to get laid, hopes that satisfaction will dull her sensitivity. She holds her phone tightly in one hand, Chinese carton in the other and wonders if her usual contact would be up for a quickie befor she starts work. She got two hours, more than enough time.

She debates internally for what feels like forever before finally shooting a text across and going back to attempting to eat some food.

It's a few minutes later when she hears the door to the bathroom open and then only moments later Anya wanders past in her pyjamas, damp hair over her shoulder in a thick braid. She's practically glowing, her movements quick and enthused and obviously prideful.

She gets a glass of water and gulps it down before dropping done onto the sofa next to Lexa, feet

up on the table after picking up a box of chow Mein. "Sorry. We try not to do shit like that because it's unfair to you but..."

"You're a thirsty bitch who can't keep it in your pants?" She feels mildly hypocritical saying the words out loud, makes sure to tame her tone back so the statement is joking and not sharp. Anya laughs despite a mouthful of food and Lexa can't help but smile at the expression.

"Clarke's the thirsty one." Anya responds before shoving as many noodles as she can into her mouth. She almost choked on them when she receives a cuff around the back of the head from Clarke who strides in, still flushed with blown pupils and wearing baggy pyjama trousers and one of Anya's shirts.

"I can easily rebuke that but I don't want to embarrass you in front of Lexa, because I'm a good girlfriend." Despite her stern tone, she plops herself down on Anya's lap, who managed to move her food out of the way at the last second.

"You're not staying there. C'mon shift, I'm tired and achy." She nudges at Clarke with her elbow, and the blonde laughs cheerfully and she slips into the small space between Lexa and Anya.

"Old lady," she teases Anya, who responds by sticking her tongue out and taking another mouthful.

Lexa smiles gently at the exchange, loving the ease these two had about each other, even post-sex. Her phone vibrates and she glances down at it with a frown.

Cravin' Raven: nah sorry O's got me 2night with Lincoln for movie night unless ur up for a 3some. Think O would shit herself tho

Lex: After our conversation earlier I'm not surprised. Thanks for the offer but I'll just resign myself to suffer in silence, or the lack of it.

Cravin' Raven: LOL Clarky is loud, isn't she? poor thing. Ur welcome to bunk here if you need peace, no sex or strings or whatever. Im off 2morroe, we can hav a marathon of somethin?

Lexa smiles down at her phone. She likes spending time with Raven, is greatly impressed by the other girl. For someone who had been through so much, she remained strong and proud and was always there if Lexa needed her, especially in the moments when Anya wasn't available. She respects the girl's fortitude and her determination to avoid any romantic relationships after the last two had left her terribly uncomfortable.

She shoots off a reply agreeing to a marathon day tomorrow, promising to provide the pizza, before she gets up from the sofa and stretches. The time has gone strangely fast this evening and

she has to leave for work.

She has to tone down the smile as two voices ring out to wish her an enthusiastic goodnight before she shuts the door behind her.


	4. Tattoos

They’re all lounging in the living room one day, bemoaning the heat and their lack of AC when Clarke asks a curious question.

“How many tattoos do you actually have, Lexa?”

From her perch on the window, one leg hanging out to rest on the fire escape, Lexa frowns and twists to look over at Clarke, who is standing in front of an easel, charcoal smudged across her cheeks. Anya is spread across the sofa with a cool cloth draped over her face in an attempt to cool herself off, and she laughs quietly before shedding light on the question that seems to come out of the blue. “She keeps asking me but I truly don’t know. I’m guessing four?”

Lexa hums and leans back against the window frame, letting her eyes slip shut. She’s aware of Clarke’s gaze on her, obviously waiting for an answer. She doesn’t exactly keep it a secret but her tattoos are for her, no one else, so she doesn’t exactly speak of them or show them off too often. For a moment she has to count them up in her head.

“Six,” she finally responds, turning to look at Clarke who raises a brow in surprise. “I’m counting my back piece as one, but it technically has three different designs on it, so I guess you could say eight.” She pauses, mildly off-guard by the excitement shining in Clarke’s eyes. She knows Clarke obviously likes tattoos, it is her job after all but she didn’t think the other woman would be so excited at the prospect of tattoos that are already inked into skins, in designs that aren’t her own.

The silence seems to drag on, only interrupted by the humming of the two desk fans and the quiet

buzz of Anya’s phone playing some music. Finally Lexa looks back out the window and Clarke goes back to sketching. The soft scrap of the charcoal on paper soothes Lexa and combined with the gentle breeze from outside, she soon finds herself starting to doze.

“Can I see?”

She blinks awake at the words, a frown drawing her brows together as she blinks sleepily over at Clarke who has stopped sketching again and is looking pretty sheepish, wiping her hands across denim shorts.

“I mean, if its okay. I totally understand if not!” Clarke face flushes with embarrassment and Anya can be heard laughing from the sofa. Lexa relaxes a little and steps off the windowsill to pull her tee shirt over her head, then folding it neatly to place on the little table that holds a vase of flowers that Clarke had set up to draw.

She’s not shy about being this bare in front of Clarke or Anya. She works out in a sports bra most of the time, so this isn’t really any new flesh, though her bra is much more feminine and lacy than she’s sure either of the others would expect.

Clarke steps around her easel and over her shoulder Lexa can see Anya sitting up, watching the interaction with a bored expression. She can feel her stomach tense, shoulder’s hunching slightly under Clarke’s gaze as she looks over the different patterns etched into her skin.

From the front, there’s not too much to see. Two small birds flying up from the top of her left breast over her collarbone and a larger piece across her left side and curling across her ribs. It looks almost tribal from a distance, but Clarke draws nearer, close enough to see that the thick contrast of black ink and flesh makes spiralling curls filled with hibiscus flowers. Lexa twists slightly, lifting her arm up to afford Clarke a clearer view.

Clarke herself seems absolutely fascinated, starting at the design with a look of awe and wonder, hand lifting up as if she want’s to touch it but it quickly falls back to her side. “Where did you get this done? It’s beautiful.”

Lexa shrugs, letting her own arms drop. “New York. Same place Anya got her wolf.”

Clarke glances over her shoulder at Anya, who just sends her a lazy grin from where she is laying, with her arms folded over the back of the sofa. “Russian guy. Dmitri or something. Had nice hands.” She hums at the memory and Lexa laughs too because she remembers the guy. He was a

built like a tank but had the gentlest hands while doing their designs and the two of them had left laughing and joking about Anya’s terrible attempt at flirting. It had been a good trip that one, care- free and exciting but with a lingering bittersweet knowledge that Lexa wouldn’t see Anya again for at least several months as she was about to head to college while Lexa was still in high school.

“Well I’m counting four so far, including the obvious one on your arm and the one of the gear on your thigh. Lets see the big one and then I can grill you on where the other is.” Clarke’s voice is light, teasing and showing how she is obviously having fun with examining the art on Lexa’s skin.

Anya snorts from the living room, though its muffled by her face being pressed into her arms. “Good luck. I’ve been pestering for two years and still haven’t found the missing sixth.”

By this time Lexa has turned around, putting her back on full display. The piece is large and it had taken her several painful sittings to get it fully completed. Its made of three parts – the first being a large deer skull that reaches down between her shoulder blades with the horns spreading up with the tips on either side of her neck. There’s flowers in the spaces between the horns, like a crown, and they’re not as exotic as the hibiscus on her ribs, just common little garden things like pansies and dandelions and sunflowers and daisies. The second is a geometrical design down her spine, lines and circles, almost like circuitry, almost like planets. She loves that every person who sees it interprets it differently, and she had only gotten it in the first place because the tattoo artist had sketched it up as soon as she told him she wanted an elegant but eye-catching unique design. He was so enthused she couldn’t say no and she’s pleased she doesn’t regret it. The third part is a silhouetted forest with the shadow of some sort of small mammal merging with the trees. Its large, covering the entirety of her back, trees crawling up on either side of the geometric tattoo to the bottom of the skull where they fade successfully, giving the piece an almost three dimensional feel.

Its impressive and massive and she knows it. Silence reigns for what feels like an eternity until she glances over her shoulder to see Clarke’s almost gobsmacked reaction. She has to admit, she doesn’t mind the attention.

“Lexa, this is genuinely the most amazing back I have ever seen.” Her words come out with breathy awe before she realises her mistake and corrects it "Back piece. Back tattoos." She's blushing slightly and Anya huffs in amusement as she watches Clarke adorably stumble over her words. At the compliment, delivered in such a breathless tone of voice, Lexa involuntary tenses, flexing the muscles of her back. She swears Clarke gulps at that and suddenly the artist is looking away, running a hand through her hair. “That’s a level I’ll never reach, but I don’t mind. I have my own style. It’s just...amazing, really. Astounding.” She shakes her head a little and Lexa smiles as she pulls her top back on.

“I can’t take any credit for it. I’m just the canvas.” Lexa shrugs, hands slipping into her jean pockets. Clarke smiles, looks like she’s about to say something else when Anya pipes up again.

“So you ever going to tell us where your hidden tattoo is? I’m starting to suspect its something horrendously tacky, like a butterfly with the words ‘Free Spirit’ on your ass.” Her words are accompanied by an overdramatic sweeping of her arm and any attempt at a scowl is wiped easily off Lexa’s face at Anya’s antics.

Clarke giggles from where she’s now sat down on the back of the sofa, next to Anya. “Nah, I think its probably something like a flaming skull with ‘Bad Bitch’ written in Chiller.”

“Hey now I have some class.” She tries to defend herself but the other two are giggling away now and its mildly disconcerting because Anya didn’t giggle.

“How are you supposed to know, trouble?” Anya teases, using the pet name she given Lexa back in high school. “No one has seen this tattoo you claim to have, no one knows if its classy or not.”

Lexa scowls in response. “And you can’t take my word for it?”

“Like I took your word that you had taken the garbage bag out last month before you went round and stayed at Raven’s for three days?”

She has no retort for that because it was true. She’d said she’d take the bag down to the bin and instead if had sat in their apartment, stinking the place out for several days because apparently pettiness over-rode Anya’s sense of smell and she was willing to suffer just to get the last word in.

“Oooh,” Clarke sudden pipes up, glancing form Anya to Lexa with a mischievous smile, “I know Raven has a terrible Stick n. Poke tat. Maybe Lexa’s is something she’s done herself?”

Anya barks with laughter, nudging at her girlfriend while Lexa continues to glare as hard as she possibly can. “What do think it’d be then?”

Clarke ponders this for a while, hand on her chin and a pensive look on her face as she casts her gaze over the awkward brunette across the room. “Something she likes. Lexa’s too anal to get something she doesn’t like permanently marked on her.”

Mimicking Clarke’s pose, Anya makes a loud obnoxious hum as she starts to list off things Lexa likes. “Candles? Soccer? Video Games? Dusty old books? The zoo? A raccoon?” She pauses as she sees Lexa’s gaze falter and recognition starts to widen her eyes and spread a grin across her face. “No way. You do not have a raccoon tattoo.”

face. “No way. You do not have a raccoon tattoo.”

She grumbles in response, looking away and at the ground, defeated because now Anya’s got the taste for blood she’ll go in for the kill.

“Oh come on, now you have to show me! I don’t give a shit if its on your ass, I need to see with my own eyes that you have a goddamn raccoon tattooed into your skin.” Clarke nods excitedly in agreement to Anya’s demand, mirth making her eyes dance and Lexa can’t look at the two of them for long. With a deep sigh that makes her sound years older than she is, she begins to unbuckle her belt, accompanied by a loud whoop from Anya and a wolf whistle from Clarke. Her glare has no effect on the two of them anymore, as they lean forward in anticipation. She honestly hates her life right this second and wants to just throw herself out the fire escape. She could do it – it was right there, the window wide open. Just a couple of strides and out she went. Into the relative safety of a rickety metal structure twelve stories high.

But no, if she left it now Anya would never give it up. It would follow her to her grave, heck it would even drive her to an early grave. She’s not going to let Anya get the last laugh here – she has to stand strong in the face of adversity.

And just hope and pray to whatever gods there happen to be out there, that the two of them will be too excited about the tattoo to make a remark about her underwear.

She deems after this day that there are no gods.

“...pug hugs.” Clarke whispers the words as if they were sacred, face incredulous while Anya looks completely shocked before snorting into uncontrollable laughter. Lexa feels her face heat up, sure she’s red as a tomato but does her best to stand her ground, leaving her jeans sitting on her thighs and crossing her arms over her chest. The whole stance is so ridiculous that Anya laughs even harder, breathing in loud gasps and wails of amusement while Clarke still seems shellshocked, quietly whispering ‘pug hugs’ over and over again. Lexa can only wish she was wearing something plain and boring but no, when she got up this morning she had caught sight of the briefs adorned with little cartoon pugs embracing each other and thought “Why not, no one is going to see anyway.”

And now here she was, utterly humiliated and trying her best not to show it.

“Are you about done?” She snaps at Anya, who has finally quietened down to little amused snickers while Clarke just grins at her as if she has been gifted with something truly amazing. When Anya nods, she heaves a sigh and turns around, revealing the small cartoon raccoon wearing thick rimmed glasses, tattooed into the firm flesh where her thigh joins with buttock. Its just under the swell of her ass, outside the cover of the embarrassing underwear.

Twin cries of ‘holy shit’ ring out and then she’s quickly pulling her jeans back up and buckling the belt in record time. “There. You’ve seen it, you know its not a stick-n-poke, its not a trashy biker tat and its certainly not something I got done whilst very very drunk near the end of High school. Now we’ll never speak of this again.” Her voice is low and dangerous and the other two seem to sober up from their amusement very quickly.

“Of course Lexa.” “Speak of what?”

She sighs in relief that they seem to be willing to agree and potters back to her previous perch on the window. Her skin is clammy and overheated, embarrassment only adding to the sweltering temperature. She fumbles for a moment with her pockets before pulling out her phone and earphones and deciding its time to block out the world and attempt to forget everything.

She takes too long to pick a song though, scrolling up and down through playlists with a frown and Anya and Clarke start to talk, obviously thinking she couldn’t hear them thanks to her earphones.

“Honestly, that was adorable.” Clarke, is sitting at her easel again, moving charcoal over the rough paper with ease. Her voice is incredibly muffled from the headphones and the large canvas blocking the sound but Lexa strains herself to eavesdrop on their conversation because goddamn it she didn’t want to be adorable but she wasn’t adverse to being it if it made Clarke smile like that.

“I can’t believe she has a fucking cartoon raccoon on her ass. I genuinely can’t believe it. She’s had it for four years and I’ve never tried to guess what it was.” Anya has moved from the couch to lean against Clarke who tries to shove her away which only succeeds in making Anya lean more weight against her. They tussle for a bit, shoving against each over playfully and laughing and Lexa is about to start a song (finally) when Clarke speaks up again.

“I see what you mean though. Damn.” She draws out the word, wiggling her eyebrows at Anya who rolls her eyes, holding back a smirk.

“Keep your voice down, we don’t know how loud her music is.”

Clarke huffs and turns back to the drawing, adding in a few lines here and there. “Are we ever going to tell her?”

Tell her what? Lexa almost wants to ask out loud but stays in her reclined position with her head tilted against the wall, trying her best to look as bored and uninvolved in the conversation as possible.

There’s a harsh sigh and Anya moves away, flopping back into the couch. “Never, if I have my way but something tells me you’re still not taking that for an answer.”

“Nope!” Clarke response in a sing-song tone, popping the ‘p’ and making a sweeping movement across the canvas with her charcoal. Her tone grows a tad more serious with her next words. “I really think the longer you leave it, the worse its going to get. We’re in agreement and honestly, I’m so glad we are and that we’re on that level of honesty and trust but...”She trails off, motions pausing and finally she lets the charcoal fall to the side and turns to look at Anya, her back to Lexa now. “She’s so sad, so lonely. We can fix that. I don’t like seeing her like that, you know?”

Lexa feels her heart rate pick up, hammering in her chest because she’s wondering if she’s missed something in this conversation, a change of subject. They couldn’t still be talking about her, right? Sure she was lonely, but they already helped with that, they already gave her company on her bad days – and even the good days too – and she had made it clear how grateful she was for them.

“What if she doesn’t want that Clarke? What if-“

She doesn’t hear the rest because her thumb brushes over the play button and suddenly music is flooding her ears, blocking everything out. She swears quietly under her breath, turning the volume down a bit and glancing up to see that Clarke has gone back to sketching and she can just see Anya’s feet draped over one arm of the couch. She feels so confused, so lost, wondering what exactly Anya meant. Of course she doesn’t want to be sad and lonely, but its in her biology at this point, set so deep in her mind that it’s a big damn battle to get it out. Anya knows that, Anya’s been with her whilst she’s been through the worst of it and she knows how much Lexa loves spending time with them both, that their presence helps sooth her mind and chase the darkness away.

She feels so damn hurt through the confusion and twists away from the room, more towards the fire escape, cradling her phone and staring at her reflection with a small, sad frown. What a strange fucking day.


	5. Reconciliation

Four night shifts later and Lexa’s lying face down on the sofa in the office at Raven’s garage. She’s a tad too tall for it, her feet hanging over the arm rest with her arms tucked under her chest and face shoved into the corner. For the seventh time that day she heaves out a loud groan, as if expelling the noise from her lungs will help reduce the weight on her heart.

Anya’s words still sit heavily in her mind, a constant buzz that won’t die down. Was she making them feel like she didn’t want them around? It was stupid though, because they knew she loved them both, knew that she relied on them to keep her grounded, knew that she enjoyed spending time with them. She just cant fathom Anya’s words, just doesn’t know why Anya would ever doubt her want to get better.

There’s a clang followed by rapid fire swearing which can only mean Raven’s dropped something. She groans and rolls off the couch, landing on hands and knees before standing up and shuffling through to the garage. Her body aches, from work and from a very early morning training session in the gym yesterday – so early she knew it would only be Lincoln there and he wouldn’t ask any questions about why she was pummelling the bag into oblivion.

She breathes deep the scent of oil and rusting metal as she enters the main room of the garage. It’s a large expanse, actually larger than the apartment. Its full of stacks of car parts – rusted mufflers, broken suspension coils, dirty air filters. It’s a mess but she’s used to traversing the chaos, stepping over bits of metal without a second thought.

She finds Raven sitting on the floor, leaning against the leg of her workbench with her eyes closed. She’s dressed in a tank and loose khakis, the left leg tied just under her stump and old dog tags sitting on her chest, exposed for once, obviously because of the comfort of her own home.

Lexa glances around, sees the prosthetic sitting against the wall, just out of reach. As Lexa approaches, she opens one eye and smiles up at her lazily.

“What time is it?”

Lexa glances down at the watch on her wrist and reads 8am with a frown. She’d been lying on the sofa for almost two hours after her shift, thinking constantly. She wished she could just switch her mind off, put up a blockade to stop the thoughts moving out from where she shoves them while she works.

“8am, Raven. You should really head to bed.”

Raven waves her away as she starts to get up, well practised in such a motion after two years. She hops over to the stool, sliding on with ease and beginning to tinker with the old mid-block V8 sitting in front of her. Lexa has no idea what she’s doing, so just hovers around, enjoying the distraction from her thoughts.

“You want to give me a hand? I need to get under the Mustang but the jacks are jammed so I have to use the trolley and my back is just not up for that today.”

Lexa scratches lazily at the back of her head with a frown. She really just wants a shower and to go to sleep but she doesn’t want to head back to her apartment knowing it’s Anya’s day off and doesn’t want to deal with the awkwardness she knows her mind will create. With a heavy sigh, as if Raven has just asked the world of her, she wanders over to the rust bucket that was once a mustang and crouches down. “What am I doing then?” She spies a pair of gloves sitting on the trolley and puts them on, turning to look over her shoulder once she’s done to see Raven spinning on her stool.

“Connections.” She responds simply and Lexa nods. Oil and fuel connections would need to be checked and if broken or rotten, replaced. It was generally easy to do with proper jacks but with them jammed, the car was barely a few feet off the ground. A panic grips her stomach momentarily as she settles on the trolley and rolls herself under the vehicle to get to work, knowing that with it this low, there was always a risk but she pushes it away, thinking of Anya’s words from years ago – “Whats life without a few risks?”

She works for a while, time slipping away and her mind concentrating on locating the tubing and cables and checking them over, removing them if needed. At one point Raven kicks her exposed booted feet and asks if she wants a cup of tea before hobbling off to the kitchen with her crutch.

When she returns, Lexa has removed herself from under the car, pulling the gloves off with ease,

grease streaked across her face and forearms. Raven chuckles at her, handing the mug over and leaning against the car, looking down at her with an unreadable expression.

“So, you gonna tell me while you keep crashing at mine instead of going home? At first I assumed it was Clarke getting her freak on too much – girl is insatiable – but I saw she was at her apartment on snapchat, so it can’t be that.”

Raven is a hard one to decipher. Lexa respects her greatly, does her best to support the veteran without being patronising or pitying and the other woman responds well to it, always laughing and joking, sassing when Lexa is sulking or too quiet. She also had a knack for suddenly fluctuating between care-free and joking to serious, eyes hardening as they stare into your soul and demand full honesty from you. She was a woman hardened by war and loss that hadn’t yet lost her softer edge, though sometimes it seemed forced but Lexa and the rest of her friends could easily forgive her this.

So when she looks down at Lexa with a sad but somewhat understanding look, Lexa can’t look away and even consider a lie. She heaves another sigh and lays back down on the trolly, setting the mug to one side and clasping her hands together on her stomach.

“I overheard Clarke and Anya talking about me. Anya said something I didn’t understand, something that hurt, and I just...I can’t ask her about it because they’d know I was eavesdropping but if I look at her the words are just going to circle in my head like vultures until I say or do something stupid.” She lifts her hands up to her face, dragging them down over her eyes with a groan. “Plus all these night shifts are killing me and Anya will try and get me to run each day and I just...can’t right now. I have no energy, no determination, it just feels so pointless. I’ll hit the gym on my days off and after the café, that’s more than enough to keep me in shape.”

Raven stares at her, quietly, not responding and just sipping at her own mug. The silence settles and neither says anything to break it, Lexa sitting up again to finish off the tea.

“I think,” Raven begins, choosing her words carefully, “that you need to either admit to eavesdropping and talk to Anya or get over it.” Her words aren’t harsh, but they still make Lexa cringe. “This is only going to fester in your mind. You know how you are, over-thinking everything. I understand it though, I really do. But you’re starting to get back into that routine of running from issues instead of facing them head on. I’m happy to be a home away from home for you, somewhere you can relax and breathe, but I wont be your escape to run away from your problems with Anya.” She takes the empty mug from Lexa’s hands gently and Lexa allows her with a hum. She doesn’t respond to Raven’s words because they’re the stark truth delivered in gentle tones and its hard for her to react because she’s too busy thinking the words over and over in her head.

She just sits there, rolling gently back and forth on the trolley before she dons the gloves again and

slides back under the car. She had found a few cables that were coated in grime and what looked like calcified build-up that would need to be replaced, so she might as well get that done for Raven.

Raven returns after a while and sits on the floor, talking to Lexa about banal everyday things, obviously an attempt to distract her from overthinking and she has to admit it does help. That is, until Raven decides to bring up the previous conversation. “Anya’s known since, what you were eight?”

Lexa fights with a particularly stubborn cluster of cables, gripped to the chassis with rust. Once it finally breaks free with a little shower of rust flakes she hums and responds, distractedly. “Ten. I was ten and she was thirteen. What does that matter?”

Raven’s head appears in the small gap under the car with a small smile as she watches Lexa work. “She knows you better than anyone else. She’s known you longer than your parents.”

“Again, what does this have to do with anything?”

“She loves you. She knows you. She’ll understand that you eavesdropped and she’ll listen to any concerns you have. She may be pissed, but its Anya. She can never stay mad at you.”

Lexa lets her arms fall with a huff, staring at the exposed wires. “I don’t know. I’m so conflicted on all this.”

“Well, you should make a decision because her and Clarke are here.”

Lexa sits up quickly in shock, smashing her forehead against a metal strut. She groans and falls back down and Raven laughs heartily at the action.

“Dumbass. Want me to tell them you’re here?”

She stays quiet for a moment, listening to the sound of an engine turning off and people stepping out onto the sidewalk in front of the garage. She could hear the quiet rasp of Clarke’s voice and the soft hum of Anya’s response and felt her stomach clench in a sudden wave of anxiety.

“No, I...I don’t think I can handle it.” “Cool, so you’re going to eavesdrop again?”

“No I’d really rather not. Take them through to the office or something. Or delay them so I can sneak out the back.”

“No way, if Clarke sees the state of the office she'll never get off my back about healthy living arrangements or whatever an you're not going to be able to 'sneak' out that rusting slab of metal. Its screeches louder than the breaks on your old Toyota.”

Lexa groans and pulls herself further under the car, bending her knees a little so that she was pretty much completely hidden from sight.

“Just...don’t mention me.”

“And if they mention you?” The voices are getting closer and Lexa is glad Raven has the large main shutter closed. A knock rattles the metal sheet and suddenly Clarke’s voice is ringing out calling for Raven.

“God I don’t know.” Lexa’s voice is hushed, panicking. “I don’t know what to do Raven, please.”

“Hey now, that’s unfair. Puppy-dog eyes are my one weakness.” Raven huffs and clambers to her feet with the help of her crutch and begins to head over to the side door where the knocking has continued to an almost continuous rattle. “Yeah yeah keep your panties on, I’m coming. Only got one leg, cut me some slack.”

Lexa stays under the car, trying to work on scraping rust away and finding problems to fix while she was stuck down there. She listens, hears Clarke and Anya greet Raven in their own way – Clarke with a happy cheer and what sounded like a hug and Anya with a sarcastic remark about Raven’s missing leg then a yelp which Lexa guessed came from a strike from Raven’s crutch. They move into the building a bit, moving at a relatively slow pace because of Raven.

“So what brings you two to my dungeon of debauchery?”

Anya snorts and Lexa turns her head to look longingly at what she can see of her friends. Clarke’s ankles are bare, feet in a pair of worn looking slip-on vans while Anya is in her usual ensemble of jeans and black boots. Even though she can just see their ankles, knowing they’re close makes Lexa realise just how much she’s missed them during her own self-imposed isolation. She feels kind of stupid, because Raven was right – Anya knows her so well by now, there has to be a reasonable explanation for her words and she’d understand. She always understood.

“We’re looking for Lexa. She won’t answer any of our texts and she’s been silent on social media. I’m really worried.” Clarke’s voice is suddenly thick with emotion and Lexa feels guilt crawl up her throat.

“I thought she might be crashing at yours after work because its closer, but her car wasn’t there and no one answered.” Anya’s however is devoid of emotion, which means she’s holding them back.

Raven hums, long and loud and moves to sit at her workbench. Lexa sighs as she realises the other woman wasn’t leading them into the office. “She was standing where you’re standing now about an hour ago.” She mentions casually, moving stuff around on the bench with practised ease. “She was tired but she seemed fine. Don’t know why she’s not responding to you.”

Silence falls over the garage again and Lexa finally decides she can’t just keep hiding from this.

“I didn’t mean to.” She tries to project her voice a bit so it could be heard as she wheels herself out from under the car. She clambers to her feet, stripping off the gloves and just as she looks up, she’s suddenly engulfed in a hug. She had expected it to be Clarke – she was the more touchy- feely of the couple – but was surprised to find it was Anya who held her with an iron grip, face tucked into her shoulder. She’s startled still, surprised and a little worried, carefully lifting a hand to rest on Anya’s back. “I’m sorry.” She manages to croak out, suddenly full with too many emotions at the show of affection from her closest and oldest friend. She really had been a fool to worry about what she had heard earlier in the week.

After a few minutes Anya pulls back, holding Lexa at arms length, looking her over. She frowns at the red mark on her forehead and the rough scabs on her knuckles and when Lexa thinks she’s going to hug her again, she suddenly swings and cuffs her around the back of her head.

Lexa stares at her in shock while Raven and Clarke cackle with laughter in the background. Anya is scowling at her and Lexa can see the sudden burst of anger simmering beneath the surface.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing? Do you know how worried I was? What assumptions do you think I made, when I couldn’t reach you on your phone and you where nowhere to be found? If Lincoln hadn’t told me about your visit yesterday, I would have thought you were gone

again.” Her voice is low and dangerous and Lexa feels herself gulp because this level on anger in Anya is hard to rectify. “I was so fucking scared, you absolute asshole.”

She doesn’t know what to do, so she does the only thing she can do; confess. “I heard you and Clarke talking the other day. After you saw my tattoos.”

Clarke seems to go pale but there’s something like hope lighting her eyes. Anya looks wary, taking a few steps back and Clarke takes a couple forward so they’re standing next to each other. There’s a sudden tension in the air, burning through the garage. “What did you hear?”

She shrugs one shoulder, folding her arms across herself defensively. “Apparently I’m cute.” Clarke flushes red at this and even Anya has a slight pink dusting across her cheeks. “And I’m very sad and lonely.”

“Lexa...” Clarke begins, taking a half step forward but as Lexa shakes her head, she stops.

“No I...its okay. I know I can be a downer sometimes and just generally a dead weight on the mood but I’m getting better, I think. Sometimes it feels even...normal. You guys really help, honestly. Both of you have helped me improve so much in the past months and I just...I really appreciate it. I do. I’m sorry that there are times that I get a bit lost in the darkness and I guess on the days when I don’t get up in the morning it might seem that I don’t want to get better but I do, I really really do. And you guys don’t have to do anything more to help because you already do more than enough and I’m sorry with how much you have to do and how much of a burden I must be but I’m getting better and I want to get better. Its just hard going sometimes but it seems doable with you guys around.”

Her voice wavers slightly while she speaks, but she keeps ploughing on, keeping her eyes on her shuffling feet rather than the other people in the room. When no one responds, she glances up and is surprised to see Clarke crying silently and Anya looking completely heartbroken. Raven on the other hand is looking absolutely furious, staring at the couple with a rage that looks ready to burst over like a volcano.

“You didn’t fucking talk about her depression while she was right fucking there, like some sort of goddamn patient, did you!? Like she was a project, something to fix and not your fucking friend?” She all but yells and Clarke flinches, trying to scrub at the tears in her eyes but Raven’s tirade doesn’t stop and doesn’t help ease the tears. “I honestly can’t believe it. I thought you were smarter than that Clarke. And you,” she hobbles over to Anya, crutch clacking on the floor until she’s right up in the other woman’s face, “I honestly have no words. I want to say so much, but it would do nothing but remove the guilt I can see you’re currently feeling and replace it with anger

and you do not deserve that out in this situation. You deserve to rot in the guilt you’re currently feeling until it eats you up and you realise just how absolutely disgusting it is to talk about your closest friend’s mental health right in front of them when you thought they couldn’t hear! “

Clarke tries to intervene, sniffling. “Actually, I was the one who-“

“I don’t care!” Raven exclaims, throwing her arms up in the air. “I’ve been where she is. I know what its like and I know how much you help keep her alive and...” she trails off and looks over at Lexa who is standing rigid and tall, looking absolutely petrified. Raven lets out a slow breath, finding her calm as she moves over slowly to Lexa. “I’m sorry, I was just as bad as them there, talking about you as if you’re somewhere else when you’re literally right here. You’re welcome to stay with me as long as you need Lexa. You are never a burden to me, I know how hard this and I’ll do my best to help you through it.” Her calloused hand grips Lexa’s forearm and the taller girl glances down with wide, sad green eyes and she can see Raven’s heart break. She hates it, because this expression has become all the more common in her friends when they interact with her and she’s just so tired of being the source of someone else’s stress and worry. She runs a hand over her face, trying to tame her mind into something resembling the calm she had earlier. Clack is still sniffling quietly, and Anya has an arm around her, murmuring in soothing tones, something she had done for Lexa many a time.

“I think,” she begins and all heads turn to look at her, “I’ll just go home. I need clean clothes.” She keeps her voice neutral, calm and it seems to work because Raven merely narrows her eyes for a second before shrugging.

“As long as you’re okay with that. I mean it when I say sanctuary is available should you ever need it.” The sincerity in her voice and gaze makes Lexa smile gently at the ex-combat engineer. She could always count on Raven. Everyone could count on Raven.

“Thank you. I’ll be back on Saturday so we can watch the game.”

Raven nods, and moves away though she shoots Anya and Clarke a quick glare on her way past. “Bring beer!” She calls over her shoulder as she disappears into her office.

The couple look over at Lexa now, both looking fully consumed with guilt. Clarke has stopped crying but her eyes are rimmed red and she keeps sniffing which breaks Lexa’s heart. She’d never meant for anything like this to happen – she should have just stayed quiet, said she was having a bad crash or something.

“Lets all just forget this ever happened, shall we?”

Lexa doesn’t think Anya’s ever said anything that’s brought her so much relief in her entire life. With an exhausted smile, she nods and gestures to the office, where her work bag sits. The couple nod and head out to Anya’s car.

Lexa doesn’t say anything to Raven as she walks into the office, gathering up the small backpack she takes to work with her, her jacket and her phone, which is charging in the corner. Raven is sitting at the desk, scrolling through emails on the computer and Lexa pauses behind her before leaning over and giving her a hug from behind. Almost absently, Raven lets her left hand up, squeezing Lexa’s arm in acknowledgement and tilts her head back slightly to bump the crown of her head against Lexa’s chin. “I’ll say sorry in a few days. Can’t let them know I have a conscience.”

She chuckles quiet, sure Raven can feel the vibrations in the back of her head before moving away. “Thanks again. Please go to bed soon.”

“No promises!” Raven shouts as Lexa closes the door behind her, shaking her head in amusement. She’s sure Octavia will find the mechanic passed out in that chair in a few hours time.

 

* * *

 

 

Once all three of them are back in the apartment, the tension is back, thick and suffocating like a smog that hangs in the air and clings to the back of their throats. Anya heads straight into the kitchen and begins cooking eggs and neither Lexa nor Clarke do anything to intervene. Anya was a nervous cooker – it was her way of taking her mind off things.

Lexa is acutely aware of Clarke watching her but she keeps pottering about, doing the usual chores she undertakes when returning from work, even if it is several hours later than usual. She shoves her uniform into the washer, hangs the bag up in the storage closet, kicks her shoes off by the door and just as she’s about to head to the bathroom for a shower before attempting some sleep, Clarke reaches out and gently grasps her arm.

“Lexa, how much of our conversation did you hear the other day?” Her voice is gentle, but with a sense of apprehension, as if she’s worried about the answer. Lexa feels guilty again, as she looks into blue eyes that seem to have lost their sheen.

“Up to when you said I was sad and lonely and that you wanted to help, and Anya argued that I might not want that at all.”

Clarke’s hand hasn’t moved from her arm so she brings her own hand up to pry it away, though with no force. She feels her fingertips tingle at the contact, the pads of her fingers smoothing over the soft skin on the back of Clarke’s hand and she has to concentrate on keeping her composure here. Her words seem to relieve Clarke though, as her shoulders suddenly slump, relaxed and she steps away, hand dragging out from under Lexa’s.

“Cool. Listen, I know we’re not going to talk about it again but I don’t just see you as sad or lonely or whatever. You’re infinitely kind and sweet and actually very funny and sarcastic and you can be a pain in the ass, especially when it comes to guitar hero and me leaving my shampoo in the shower but I just...” She trails away and Lexa is faintly aware of the fact that she’s holding her breath because this feels an awful lot like a confession and she is really not in the mindset to deal with her best friend’s girlfriend saying such things right now.

“I’m just glad you’re you, y’know?” Clarke shrugs and takes another step back, rubbing embarrassedly at the back of her neck. “You’re more than you present yourself to be sometimes. And I’m glad I know that.”

Lexa opens her mouth to respond but no words come to mind. Instead, she gives a small smile and heads to the shower with the intent of washing away the past several days, hoping that the sleep afterwards will leave her feeling refreshed and ready to start again.


	6. Sickness

“Raven I’m deadly serious, how the hell do you make chicken noodle soup? I know you’re supposed to use stock, but how many noodles? Do I have to cut the noodles up? Please stop laughing.”

Lexa is in a panic. The unthinkable has happened and it feels like the world is going to end if she can’t get this damn chicken soup made.

Anya was sick.

It may seem an insignificant thing to anyone else, but Lexa had only seen Anya sick once in the fourteen years she’s know her and that had been horrific. They had both suffered from a nasty stomach flu and their parents had taken it in turns to keep an eye on them, which meant Lexa got to see first hand what sick Anya was like.

To put it simply, it was hell.

At first, Anya becomes limp and lifeless, like she’s given up on fighting the flu-like infection before its even begun. She lies around groaning and whining, unable to find a good temperature which results in her constantly kicking off and then pulling back on the covers she’s dragged to the sofa. She refuses to eat, claiming she feels too unwell and wont drink until Lexa threatens to drown her.

That was two days ago. Now she’s progressed to the angry stage – she’s pissed that she’s off work, her routine is messed up. She’s had to ask younger, less experienced members of staff to take her private appointments and called in favours from other trainers to cover classes. She hates the lack of control she has over her own work and keeps pacing with the small bursts of energy she gets. Her throat has moved on to scratchy and pained and she’s unable to eat even though her appetite is starting to come back. She’s irritable and constantly scowling and Lexa hates it. Its like trying to care for a toddler, but the toddler knows ten different ways to kill you with its bare hands and has a colourful vocabulary.

So here she was, taking her third day off work to care for Anya because she knows the other woman wont do it herself and she’d worry too much as a result. So here she is, shoulder holding her phone to her ear as she rummages through the cupboards trying to think of what she could make that was gentle on the throat but nutritious enough to keep Anya going through this illness. On the other end of the line Raven is laughing manically, as if the whole situation was the single most hilarious thing she has ever witness.

“If you’re not going to help over the phone, can you not just come round? I’ve no idea what I’m doing.” Lexa admits with a sigh and Raven responds with a snort so loud it makes the phone crackle.

“No way in hell. Anya scares me when she’s perfectly healthy, I’m not about to see how I’d handle her when she’s sick. Besides she’s still a little pissed with me and I doubt she’d take well to me being able to see her sick and vulnerable. What about Princess?”

Lexa hums, not listening, and she stares down at a packet of plain rice crackers. They’d be okay right? And they’re sort of nutritious, she could put some cheese on them. Or was dairy bad when someone was sick? Shit, she was probably going to end up killing her best friend with food poisoning or something at this rate.

“I’m sorry Raven I didn’t catch that.”

There’s rustling on the other end of the line and Raven huffs irritably. “I’m sending Clarke round.”

Lexa panics, drops the packet on the counter and grabs the phone with her hand. “No don’t do that Anya will kill me and maybe her. She’s too worried about getting Clarke sick when she’s got a full week of appointments booked next week.”

“But Clarke is a trained medical professional!”

“Doesn’t matter. Don’t send her round, she’ll die. I’ll be able to handle this – the Chinese down the street does chicken soup apparently.” Thank god for the pinboard covered in take-out menus. She was saved.

“And what happens when you eventually get sick too?”

“That wont happen.” Lexa states firmly as she swaps the phone to her other hand to pull on her jacket. “I never get sick.”

“Just like Anya never gets sick?”  
“No. Because Anya is sick and I’m not.”

“For now.” Raven counters with an exasperated sigh. “Clarke would know what to do and she should be there instead of you really. Its not your job to look after Anya.”

Lexa frowns, leaning against the counter with one hand holding up her head whilst the other still holds her phone. “Its not down to me, Raven.”

“Pfft, I can’t imagine Anya complaining when Clarke turns up in a skimpy nurse’s uniform.” Lexa frowns. “Why would she be in a nurse’s uniform?”

“Shh Lexa, let the fantasy unfold. Clarke turns up, short skirt and all that cleavage and a little doctor’s bag and she’s like ‘where’s the patient?’”

“Which is redundant,” Lexa retorts, trying her best not to laugh and add fuel to Raven’s fire, “because it’ll be very obvious that it’s Anya considering she’s coughing and sneezing non-stop.”

“Again shhh. You’re ruining the immersion.” Raven’s tone is amused and its obvious she too is trying hard not to laugh at the ridiculousness she’s spewing. “Anyway, she comes in and you’re like ‘Ooooooh Doctor Griffin thank goodness you’re here’”. Her voice rises an octave in a terrible, breathy imitation of Lexa’s voice. She can’t help but bark a laugh at the attempt. “And Clarke will be like ‘You can thank me later hot stuff’ and then she’s all over Anya saying things like ‘Where does it hurt? Do you need more pressure?’ In that ridiculously sultry voice she does.” Raven is outright cackling between words now and Lexa is trying very very hard not to visualise any of this and is failing spectacularly.

I still don't understand how if she’s a doctor why is she in a nurse’s uniform?”  
  
“Because I can only find a decently priced sexy nurse’s uniform on Amazon at the moment.” She

can hear a mouse clicking on the other end of the line. “Besides the sexy doctor outfit is not inline with my artistic vision.”

“I’m not even going to ask why you’re looking at those right now. In fact, I’m not even going to ask where any of this came from but I’m starting to worry for you next physio session.”

“You already know my therapist is hot. This shouldn't be a big surprise.” She can hear the grin in Raven’s voice. “Anyway back to the story, so Clarke is like, leaning right over, yeah? And you’ve got a fantastic view of her ass, because the skirt is so short-“

“I’m cutting this off now. Goodbye Raven.”

Raven’s laughter is loud and completely carefree. This is the noise Lexa thinks sounds most natural on the shorter girl, and she can’t help but smile and shake her head.

“All right all right. I’ll check in on Monday, see how sick you are.”

“I’m not going to get sick.” Lexa responds, tone brooking no argument. She has a distinct sense that Raven is rolling her eyes at her.

“Whatever. Go get your soup. I’ll send you some Amazon links later, so you know what I was talking about.”

Lexa doesn’t respond and instead just hangs up the phone and shoves it with maybe a little more force than necessary into her jean pocket. Before heading out, she glances into the living room, where Anya has made a nest of a sheet, a duvet and two blankets on the couch. Just the top half of her head was visible, the blankets pulled up over her nose, but her sickness is obvious from the light sheen of sweat clinging to her brow to the thick bags under her eyes and gaunt stretch of her skin over her cheeks. Her complexion is pale, almost grey and even from this distance Lexa can see her shivering. Her eyes are closed, but she’s not asleep, her breathing too controlled. “I’m just heading out to grab some food okay?”

The croaky response makes her want to drop everything and rush over to bundle Anya up in her arms but she can’t. She hates this, hates seeing Anya sick and weak and just so unlike what she usually is, fully of live and fire but she’s resigned herself to only being able to help with basic things like food and drinking and making sure she’s comfortable and that she at least washes in the mornings.

She sighs and heads off to the take-out. At least she’d get some spring rolls out of this.

Monday rolls around and Lexa is lying on Anya’s bed in nothing but underwear and an over-sized tee, trembling and groaning and just hating life at the hands of Anya’s flu. Behind her Anya grumbles, pressing her face into Lexa’s shoulder blades.

“I can’t believe you got sick too.”

Her voice is doing better but it still rasps and breaks. The sicker Lexa became, the healthier Anya grew and the two seemed to have both reached a plateau in the illness, now both in similar states of exhaustion with sore throats and red raw noses, though Anya was at the end of her fever while Lexa was just starting her’s. The room was a mess - tissues are scattered across the sheets, damp towels forgotten on the bedside table. Lexa groans again as she feels everything ache and behind her, Anya sniffs loudly.

“Don’t you fucking dare wipe your nose on my shirt Anya, I swear to god.”

Anya’s response is to rub her head side to side across Lexa’s back and she groans loudly, trying to kick back and make Anya move away because she really wasn’t in any fit state to deal with this, but Anya has her in lockdown, limbs wrapped around her like a limpet. She sighs, lets all the tension slip from her body, limbs heavy and achy as she tries to close her eyes against the sunlight filtering through the gaps in the curtains. "You're so stressful."

She feels Anya tense for a moment before she quickly turns her head to sneeze loudly into the pillow. Lexa cringes at the noise so close to her ears but she says nothing, just shuffles backwards a little more and settles down. She knows she wont sleep properly but will most likely doze on and off, interrupted by sneezing and coughing fits.

She’s feeling herself drift off when Anya squeezes her. “I heard the door open.” “Then go see who it is.”  
“No, m’comfy.”

She sighs, knows she can’t get up to see who it is because she could barely get up to pee earlier. If it was a break-in, so what. They barely had anything worth taking anyway – just the TV and her Playstation. Maybe Clarke’s guitar but she knows nothing about the instrument, doesn’t know if its worth anything or not. She thinks then of the music she's heard played by the guitar and sighs. She misses Clarke - its been nearly a week. (She also misses not-sick Anya, but doesn't want to seem ungrateful and mean, even if the thoughts were just in her head).

As if summoned by the thought of her, Clarke’s voice rings out through the apartment. “Guys? Are you in? Are you still alive?” Her footsteps echo down the pinewood flooring and Lexa glances over her shoulder though all she can see of Anya are the scattered waves of her hair. Her throat is hell, she has no chance of calling out to guide Clarke to them and she has a feeling Anya has decided to feign sleep so her girlfriend doesn’t see just how unwell she is.

The bedroom door creaks open and she’s surprised when not only Clarke but Raven walks in.

“Aaaw, that’s adorable.” Raven coos, followed by the shutter sound of a phone camera taking a photo and she shifts as much as she can to glare, though she's sure the expression is not the terrifying look she wants with puffy eyes and a red nose. Raven is grinning, still taking photos but Clarke looks like she’s just seen a room full of puppies before her face hardens to a serious expression and she marches forward, picking up stray tissues and clothing.

“Guys, have you eaten anything? Showered? Have you been drinking plenty?”

Lexa groans and burrows under the sheets and she would laugh if she had the energy when Anya does the same, mumbling quietly.

“God you’re worse than children. Get up, move to the living room at least. You’ll feel better for moving.” The sheets are tugged off them both and Clarke is standing there, hands on her hips looking stern. “Come on!”

Raven is being of no help at all, laughing in the background. “This is decidedly less sexy than I anticipated but a whole level funnier. I still can’t believe Lexa is the little spoon.”

“Front spoon.” Lexa manages to argue weakly, her throat literally crackling with the effort. She feels the ache all the way down to her lungs, and she tries to swallow and sooth the pain, but only succeeds in making it worse.

“Fuck I’m not getting into that argument again. Front spoon, little spoon, bottom spoon whatever. You guys stink by the way.”

Clarke rolls her eyes and shoves at Raven. “You’re the worst. I don’t know why I agreed to let you come with me. Since you’re here, you can go see what we have to work with in the kitchen.”

“Yes ma’am, your majesty.” Raven shoots off a sarcastic salute before limping out to the kitchen.

Once she’s gone, Clarke turns back to the two on the bed who haven’t moved at all. “Seriously guys,” she sits on the edge of the bed on Anya’s side, reaching out to run her fingers through Anya’s hair, smoothing it away from her face. “How bad has it been? Any vomiting or diarrhoea?”

Lexa answers these and more medical questions as Anya still refuses to speak. Eventually Clarke nods and stops her ministrations, hands clasped on her lap. “I think its just a really bad cold, maybe a flu. You just need to stay hydrated and rest.”

Anya grumbles, peeling herself away from Lexa to roll over and wrap herself around Clarke who laughs softly. Lexa feels the sudden coldness on her back all the way down to her bones and begins to tremble and shiver. Something deeper in her aches, something not physical, at the ease with which Anya can leave her behind and move over to Clarke.

“C’mon Anya, I saw there’s a nest made on the sofa. Go get a shower then settled there before Raven kicks it all to the floor. “ Clarke nudges at Anya’s shoulder gently and finally the older woman gets to her feet with a wheeze, but before she leaves she leans down for a kiss that Clarke stops with a hand over her face. "Nope. I thought you didn't want me to get sick?"

Anya groans but makes no motion to move. When she speaks her voice his muffled by Clarke's palm. "I'll look after you if you get sick." Clarke laughs at the tickle against her palm and Anya smiles, placing a small kiss against the skin before getting up and shuffling out to the bathroom.

Lexa stays where she is curled up and shaking, ignoring their playful banter behind her. Her breathing is laboured and just existing seems to be draining her of energy she doesn’t even possess at this point. She wants to cry but knows that even that would be too much effort.

She’s surprised when a cool hand suddenly drifts across her forehead, brushing wayward curls of hair out the way before pressing against her clammy skin. The temperature difference is in that moment, the single most lovely thing in the world and she doesn’t even think twice about the guttural moan she lets out. She hears Clarke chuckle before her hand is removed and relocated around her wrist, two fingers pressing down to take her pulse.

“You’re a lot sicker than Anya at the moment. “ Clarke says after a few minutes, releasing the pressure from Lexa’s wrist but not removing her hand completely. “You’ve got a nasty temperature and your pulse is racing." Her drifts in light circles over the back on Lexa's hand "I’m going to get some medicine for you, okay? You’re not allergic to ibuprofen or Acetaminophen, are you?”

Lexa just stares at her as she tries to process, because her brain isn’t functioning at all at the moment, only able to concentrate on one thing and Clarke's eyes are particularly captivating in her ill mind. It takes her a minute before she places the two types or drugs. “No. Advil and Tylenol, right?”

“That’s right. You’ve got a nasty fever burning up.” Clarke stands up, smoothing down the sundress she’s wearing. “You go wash up then join us for some food? I know you don’t want to eat but you’ve got to have something in your stomach.”

She nods and shuffles through to the bathroom, Clarke walking along beside her and rubbing her back in a comforting gesture which sends tingles down through her limbs and chest and stomach. “Don’t use cold water, no matter how much you want to. Lukewarm, okay?” Lexa just nods in response, trying to keep her mind on one track and once Clarke has departed with a small smile, she shuts the door and sets about the slow and deliberate task of stripping down and getting clean. Although she just wants to clamber into an ice bath at the moment, she takes Clarke's advice and keeps the temperature lukewarm, though she leans her forehead against the tiled wall and sighs in comfort at the cool relief it brings. The illness is good for one thing she has to admit - her brain is so addled that she can barely think straight, which means little over-thinking and no stressing about anything other than the disgusting amount of mucus coming out her nose.

Whilst she’s in the shower, the door opens and she knows she should be embarrassed or angry, but she hasn’t got the energy for anything more than tiredness. Through the frosted glass of the shower door, she can see Anya setting some clothes down on the hamper along with what looks like a towel fresh from the dryer. She looks up and if the view wasn’t so distorted she was sure their eyes had met. Anya’s gone a second later.

When she finally emerges after almost twenty minutes, she’s herded over to the couch and forced into Anya’s nest of blankets. She has to admit, despite her temperature starting to rise again, the comfort of the blankets and of Anya’s body pressed against her side was well needed. After she’s settled in what Raven dubs the ‘Quarantine Zone’, Clarke comes over with some tablets and a liquid. “Two tablets ever four hours. Two spoonfuls to match.” Lexa nods and snakes an arm out to take the tablets and spoon from Clarke. Raven wanders in just after she’s done, carrying a tray with two bowls of soup with a slice of bread next to each bowl.

“Now this is a proper soup, not the oily shit you get from Mr Wu.” She declares proudly and

Anya scoffs from her huddled position, though she still reaches out to take a bowl.

The group ends up marathoning Disney movies, though Lexa doesn’t manage even half of a single movie without falling asleep. It’s a restless sleep at first then becomes dreamless and still once the medicine kicks in. At one point she wakes up in a panic when she can’t see a single thing before the blankets are pulled back and Anya looks down at her with amused tired eyes. She doesn’t say anything, but shifts her position from curled up next to Lexa to now be stretched out with her feet up on the little coffee table in front of them. She holds an arm out and Lexa gratefully takes the invitation and snuggles into Anya’s side. Nothing feels more like home than this casual embrace and she’s soon out like a light.

The next time she wakes up with more clarity is when her temperature starts to spike. She whines and shoves the blankets off her, trying to move away from Anya who had up till that point, also been asleep. She runs her hands over her face, tugs at the collar of her top with a groan, trying to cool the fire burning across her skin, and then Clarke is there, as refreshing as a spring breeze with another dose of medicine and a cool damp towel for her forehead. She smiles dazedly up at this glorious person who was taking care of her before she sights Raven over her shoulder, playing on the playstation and swearing. Lexa frowns, tries to tell Raven not to save over her files but all that tumbles out from her mouth are nonsensical words that don’t match to each other. She’s pretty sure she said something about ‘chicken socks’. Beside her Anya laughs and despite the scratchy quality to it, Lexa feels herself smile wide at the noise because its something she’s always loved. She flops back against her best friend who accepts her without much thought and then she’s out again.

There’s a comfort to the room, the four friends settled comfortably in each other's presence. Once night falls, Raven leaves because she needs her expensive orthopaedic mattress but Clarke stays, unkeen to leave them alone. Lexa stumbles towards her room, dizzy and tired and just wanting to lie down again but is genuinely surprised when Anya grips her wrist and gently diverts her to the room she shares with Clarke.

“Stay with me. I don’t like you being alone when you’re sick.” The confession is said as a statement, casual and nonplussed, but Lexa still smiles affectionately as Anya helps her to settle down before clambering in herself. Lexa is surprised when Anya mentions that Clarke was sleeping on the couch, not wanting to leave them for the night, but also reluctant to be sleeping in a zone that can only be absolutely covered in germs. She’d been rigorous with her hand-washing since arriving in the apartment and Lexa assumes its left over from her pre-med days and had seemed to be effective so far in keeping the illness away.

She doesn’t sleep well, despite the safety of Anya’s presence and the occasional passing of slender fingers over her brow and through her hair, and she ends up stuck again with her thoughts. She and Anya were used to occasionally sleeping in the same bed, usually ending up in tangled together because Anya was a cuddler and Lexa sought warmth. It was something that helped her when she was having a bad time and Anya didn't want to leave her alone, but it also happened when they were both too lazy to get up after watching a movie or TV show or after a particularly drunken night out and now the more she thought of it, the more she realised it wasn't that much of an unusual occurrence. They've always been close, surprisingly happy with casual touches with each other despite both despising it from others. She wonders if this bothers Clarke, if their

closeness makes her uncomfortable. Anya and Clarke genuinely seemed serious, their relationship already nearly half a year old and so strong and natural that it could be easily mistaken for one much older, which must mean they're both in it for the long run. What was she going to do if Clarke permanently moves in? What if Anya moves out? Could she continue to be wheedling her way into their lives like this, stealing quiet intimate moments with Anya when she had no right to them?

Her temples throb and it feels like the plates of her skull are grinding against each other. She huffs and finally stumbles up at 3am, slipping easily out of Anya’s grasp (she’s always slept like a log) and heading towards the kitchen where the medicine is kept. She creeps along behind the couch and then nearly shits herself when she walks into the dark kitchen only to see a figure already standing there. She screams - because really, how else is she supposed to react in such a situation - and slams her hand on the light switch. Clarke jumps in response, dropping the mug in her hands just as Lexa switches the light on. Seconds later Anya runs in, baseball bat in hand, eyes wild and she looks around the room frantically before she blinks at the scene, sighing deeply before setting the bat against the top and bending to help Clarke pick up the shards of the shattered mug.

“I’m so sorry Lexa, I didn’t mean to scare you. Are you getting another dose?” Clarke's voice is gentle as she takes the shards from Anya's hands and drops them into the bin. Lexa opens her mouth to respond but no words form - instead a horrid crackle escapes with her exhale and then she's doubled over coughing until she can barely breathe. She feels Anya's hands on her back, rubbing soothing circles, voice cooing out gentle affection much like when she has a panic attack. Soon the coughing fades and she feels utterly drained, leaning against Anya who wraps an arm around her shoulders to keep her supported. Anya chuckles quietly, holding out her free hand for the dose of medicine that Clarke has set out for her. "C'mon, lets get you dosed up and back to bed." Her voice is thick with sleep and from the lack of use the last few days and she gets a glass of water set up, pushing it into Lexa's hands. Lexa takes the pills with no qualms, thankful for the soothing quality of the cold water. She notices both Anya and Clarke looking at her with similar expressions, something she's seen more and more lately but its not something she's really noticed before on Anya at the very least and leaves her a little worried. Her thoughts from earlier are building up again, the throbbing of her headache making them feel like war drums hammering with her heartbeat. "Can I ask you guys something?"

Curious, both nod and she sighs. "Am I...am I getting in the way of your relationship at all? I just feel like...I dunno not quite a third wheel, because you're both really inclusive when we hang out but that in itself is where my worry stems. You don't get to spend much time alone because I'm always about. I don't mind if you want the apartment to yourselves occasionally but I just need advance notice so I can go stay with Raven." As soon as she's finished talking, both Anya and Clarke start to speak over each other then stop and stare. Finally, Clarke speaks first.

"Trust me when I say, you are doing everything but getting in the way of our relationship. Don't worry Lexa, if we want time alone, we'll let you know. Have you ever known Anya not to ask for what she wants?" Something about the tone of Clarke's voice sounded almost sarcastic near the end and Lexa frowns, though the action hurts.

"Clarke..." Anya begins but the blonde cuts her off with a firm shake of her head. She sighs and runs both hands through her hair and down to clasp behind her neck before looking at Lexa. "If you were getting in the way, you'd know." She states firmly - or at least, as firmly as she can with her frayed vocal chords. Clarke shakes her head again, sighing heavily.

"You two get back to bed. We can talk more about this when you're both one-hundred percent, okay?" Her voice sounds disappointed and Lexa instinctively feels an uneasy churn in her stomach. She's done it again; she just can't leave well enough alone. She takes in a deep breath to steel herself and banish the feeling that she's in trouble. Anya grumbles something and turns to head back to the bedroom and as Lexa goes to do the same, she catches sight of a small smile on Clarke's face, watching her go. She returns it tentatively before heading back to the warm bed and trying another attempt at sleep.

When they awake the next day, its late morning, on the cusp of midday and Clarke is nowhere in sight. There's not even a note, which Clarke usually leaves when she has to go to work while Anya was off and there's a strange sort of loneliness to the place with just the two of them left. Lexa feels far too unwell to eat and instead makes herself at home in the nest on the sofa but Anya happily wolfs down two bowls of cereal. With her energy returning and the pain mostly gone, Anya is nearly back to normal, while Lexa feels like she'd rather be buried alive in some cool earth than suffering as she is.

"Do you think Clarke is mad?" She mumbles when Anya plops herself down on the other half of the sofa, kicking her feet under the covers and placing her cold toes against Lexa's calf muscles. Lexa shifts slightly, but doesn't move away.

"Yeah. But she's mad at me, don't worry. I'll talk to her when she's on her break." Anya sounds so casual about her girlfriend being mad and Lexa just can't understand why. Then again, this is Anya, who was most skilled and twisting her own emotions up into a little ball and chucking them into the depths of her mind, never to be seen again. She could sound nonplussed about anything. "Don't worry about it, seriously. When you're better we'll sit down and have a chat."

"This sounds ominously like when my parents got a divorce." Lexa mutters and Anya responds with a startled bark of laughter that ends in a short coughing fit. She reaches out and grips Lexa's hand, shaking her head.

"Trust me, its going to be nothing like that. Just rest up for now, okay? You look like death." Its an obvious attempt at changing the subject but by this point Lexa is too tired to care. She closes her eyes and hopes that she'll get better soon enough, so this whole confusion can be put to rest.


	7. Beginnings

Clarke and Anya have been together for six months when they have their first big argument.

Lexa comes home from a late afternoon session at the gym, pleasantly sore and ready for an evening of good food and competitive video games. She’s feeling light, happy and carefree despite the looming date in three weeks time that signals the start of her third year of university.

She’s wandering down the hallway, pulling her earphones out and instantly feels everything in her grind to an abrupt halt at the sound of Anya’s raised voice muffled by the door. She panics, because angry Anya, though fearsome and dangerous, crashes into the most fragile person possible once the fight is over. She fumbles with her keys, trying desperately to get in the door as soon as possible and also listen in to hear what the argument is about.

“And what makes you think you know what I’m feeling better than I do, huh? Are you some sort of fucking mindreader now?” Anya’s shouting, not even trying to tame her voice and Lexa is surprised when Clarke responds in a similar fashion, having never seen or heard the blonde truly angry.

“I’m saying you’re ignoring your own feelings and its making you a goddamn nightmare to deal with! I’ve put up with this for so long but I refuse to keep pandering to your stupid self- depreciating bullshit. Get it through your thick fucking skull Anya – you need to sort this out or this,” Clarke gestures emphatically between herself and Anya with her hands, “is over.”

They’re both a state, Lexa decides as she carefully shuts the door. Neither seems to have noticed her return, each standing on opposite ends of the living room. Clarke’s eyes are glossy with unshed tears but she looks absolutely livid, teeth clench and hands in fists at her side. Anya has been crying, her mascara smudged into panda eyes, but there’s an untamed rage in her, obvious in her tense muscles and jaw and the way her right arm trembles to hold back.

She feels like a kid again, baring reluctant witness to one of her parents’ many fights and decides observation is not going to help at all in this situation. Her anxiety is through the roof, but she does her best to push it down as she moves towards Anya – the closer of the two. Anya’s position near the front hallway makes Lexa think that maybe she had tried to leave earlier in the argument or maybe had tried to stop Clarke from leaving. She steps up beside Anya, smoothing a hand across her upper back, just below her neck, as she had done countless times before when Anya’s temper gets the better of her. Normally the touch helps her simmer down, lets her muscle relax back into the light pressure from Lexa’s fingers but today she practically leaps forward and away, as if she had been burned. Lexa leaves her hand hovering in mid-air, shocked and worried by the reaction. Predictable Anya she could handle – this, she could not. They stare each other down, Lexa feeling heartbroken at the fear in Anya’s eyes. Normally she could meet Anya’s gaze and feel like home, feel safe and warm and loved but today its almost like looking at a stranger.

“Well, are you going to sort your life out or not?” Clarke’s voice has quietened down, but the tone is sharp, cutting through the moment like a knife. Lexa turns to look at her, sees that she’s changed her position to have her arms folded across her chest and her weight settled on one leg, hip jutting out. It’s a challenging stance and she’s surprised when Anya turns away, almost in submission.

“Clarke please...” Her voice breaks which is horrifying because Anya was a rock, a mountain in a storm and she doesn’t break. She can be delicate, fragile and weak at times, when emotions leave her exhausted, but she still holds strong even through that, always solid and just there no matter the situation. Lexa wants to move forward, wants to wrap her up in her arms but she is still unsure how to handle the reaction from earlier.

Clarke too seems to break at this because the tears finally fall free down her cheeks and she brings both her hands up to rub over her face, the anger seeping out of her almost instantly. “We’re going to need to sort it out at some point. I can’t keep living like this, always on the precipice.” Her voice is a thick rasp and she swallows after speaking. Lexa hates this whole situation, feels so lost, like she’s standing in the middle of a battlefield in front of two armies that both don’t seem to want to make the first strike. “Anya, I love you. I really do and I’m happy to wait, but if you’re going to hold back on this because of other issues with your affection then we’re going to have to sit down and really see if we can have this relationship as just the two of us when we know our affections are strained.”

Anya goes rigid at the three significant words and Lexa wonders if Clarke has ever said them before. She can tell they’re said in earnest, Clarke’s voice open and raw and the colour of her eyes seem to shift and ripple like the waves of the ocean. Lexa feels far too intrusive standing there in that moment, and slips away into the kitchen, leaning heavily against the counter. She doesn’t know what to do, can’t comprehend a way to help because although she doesn’t want Anya to be

sad, it sounds like she’s at fault here.

Anya always plays her cards close to her chest – its rare she ever opens up or makes an effort for someone. Her relationship with Clarke is the most intimate she’s ever seen – its full of wonder and affection and its just so natural and pure and right. That Anya has done anything to ruin such a relationship fills her with disappointment. She just wants the best for her.

“Lexa?”

She looks up to find Anya standing in the doorway, arms wrapped around herself. Clarke is standing just behind her, tears no longer running down her cheeks but her eyes are puffy and bloodshot. She looks tired but her jaw is set at a determined angle and her arms are still folded across her chest.

“I think we need to talk.”  
  


* * *

 

  
They sit down in the living room. Lexa sits on the floor, on the other side of the coffee table. Clarke takes the couch and Anya perches herself on the armrest, nervously fidgeting by running her fingers through her hair and over her face. Lexa has seen this before, knows that Anya is in a bad place but she doesn’t speak up. She’s not a clue what is going on right now, but its serious, the tension in the air thick and suffocating and disconcerting. Clarke had taken a few minutes after they left the kitchen to wash her face and made sure Anya did the same before they all settled down.

Now they sit in silence, Lexa looking from Clarke to Anya, hoping one of them would speak up soon because her anxiety was starting to build up again and she had a feeling she’d vomit if this conversation took a turn.

Finally, Clarke huffs and pinches Anya’s arm. “What are we going to do then? Shall we just go out and say it?”

Lexa’s stomach churns and she grips the edge of her tee to give her something to hold, something to ground herself. This was terrifying.

“No...I.” Anya stops and groans, tilting her head back and closing her eyes. “Give me a moment to articulate my thoughts, okay?”

The silence settles again, Lexa staring at Anya, Clarke staring at Lexa and Anya keeping her eyes firmly shut as she tries to sort out her mind. Its several minutes before Clarke grumbles and leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees and clasping her hands together in front of her face.

“Lexa,” she starts and Lexa slowly turns to look her in the eye. As soon as she does she feels trapped, locked in to the stare and completely unable to escape. She’d had this problem sometimes when talking with Clarke, this inability to force herself to look away, but this was different. This was...something else entirely, something deeper and stronger than she anticipated.

“Anya and I have talked about this a lot. About our relationship and where its going and how we feel and...and you.”

Lexa feels like her heart has fallen into her stomach, feels cold ice spread through her veins to her throat. Everything is gathering around her, inside her, crushing down and slipping in, intent on ripping her apart from the inside out. She can feel herself start to shake but keeps sitting cross- legged on the floor, hands gripping her thighs, eyes staring straight at Clarke despite the sting in them from gathering tears. She wants to blurt out an “I’m sorry” but she’s not sure what she’d be apologising for. It just feels like she’s done something horribly wrong.

Anya jumps up then, glaring at Clarke. “Did you just forget she has anxiety for a moment? This is why I said we had to think this through.” She snaps and Clarke flinches, grits her teeth and looks away. Anya sighs deeply and runs her hands over her face.

“I’m going to say this quickly. Like ripping of a band-aid, right?” She breathes in deeply, holds it for a count then lets it out slowly before tilting her head down to look at Lexa. “We want you. We want you to be a part of our relationship. There’s a...an attraction there, between you and Clarke and its obvious. And between us...I don’t know. We’re too close, closer than friends should be. I can’t...I’ve cared about you for so long. Its not the sort of emotion that’s going away anytime, its not platonic. I don’t know if it ever has been.”

Lexa’s heart feels like it has stopped then restarted at double speed. Her blood is thrumming, echoing through her ears like the steady beat of a war drum and she’s completely floored. Whatever she was expecting from this ‘talk’ this was not it. She feels like time has slowed down, like reality doesn’t exist outwith of this apartment. She holds Anya’s stare, mainly because she doesn’t know what will happen when she looks away. If she looks away, if she sees something to confirm this is relative, this is real, she’s going to have to deal with it and she doesn’t know what the fuck to do.

Clarke is nodding, she can see out of her peripheral vision, and she reaches a hand out to take one of Anya’s interlacing their fingers with practiced ease. “Its true. I thought it was just physical at first but then we started hanging out and I just...it grew from there I guess. I started noticing the way Anya looks at you, talks about you and realised that actually, this was something we could work with. We’re on the same page here. All that really matters now though, is if you’re okay with this. We understand if not, we understand if you don’t feel like that for either of us or if you’d prefer monogamy but its just...we had to at least try, right?”

She doesn’t respond. She doesn’t even nod. She’s so overwhelmed by this, so shocked by this development that she’s struggling to breathe, having to concentrate on keeping it even and steady to avoid hyperventilating. They’re both just sitting there, looking increasingly worried and she knows she should say something, do something, anything.

“Um,” she begins, because she’s about articulate as a goldfish right now, “I need...I need to think. Think about this. About you, both of you. Shit I need to think. I need to breathe” She stumbles to her feet, moving clumsily through the room towards the front door, grabbing her jacket as she goes. She can hear them both standing up to follow her but she’s quick, not bothering to get her jacket on and just shooting out the door and down the stairs. When she gets onto the street she bolts, just running as fast as she can, in the first direction her feet take her in.

She runs and runs and runs, from the apartment, from her thoughts, from Anya and Clarke and the possibility of more.

She runs until she can’t breathe and nearly collapses in the outskirts of town, in a little suburb filled with identical houses with unique gardens. She bends over, rests her hands on her knees and coughs, throat dry and craving water that she doesn’t have. She’s aware she must look strange, dressed in a ratty old tee shirt and basketball shorts, holding her jacket instead of wearing it, but she just can’t bring herself to care. Her whole world has shifted on its axis and everything is off- kilter; the least of her worries are suburban soccer moms looking at her strangely.

She sits down on the curb, head in her hands and tries to process what has just happened but her mind can’t sift through the information in a logical fashion. It shifts and jumps from topic to topic – Anya had always had feelings for her, Clarke is attracted to her, people actually want to be with her, actually want to give her a chance despite her flaws and her mental health. This was real. It wasn’t a prank – Anya would never do that to her. It was real.

Could she do it? Could she learn to love two people? Its not something she’s ever considered. She knows about polyamory – she’s a big advocate for the LGBT+ community and all the different people and identities that it supports – but she’d never thought about it in reference to herself. She knows they’d need to sit down and sort out rules, what they want from the relationship, how they each feel at this point in time.

She leans back on her hands and stares up at the sky. She’s thinking about it as if its already set in stone.

Because really, how could she refuse? She loves Anya, platonically and she knows there’s a level of intimacy that they hold, that they revel in. She knows she could easily fall in love with Anya; she knows her so well already, cares for her so deeply and appreciates her and everything she is. Maybe she already is in love with her. Love was different each time, or so she had been told. Maybe this was already so comfortable she hadn’t ever considered it.

Clarke was a different matter, one that made her pause. There was sexual attraction there and boy was it strong. There was something drawing the two of them together, something deep and for now, untouched. Things with Clarke feel like they could progress maybe too fast, too intensely and she wonders if they’d burn out. Then again, she does appreciate Clarke’s humour, her smile, her teasing, her gentle soul and even her stubborn streak. She could easily fall in love with Clarke too, she realises.

Clouds drift past at a leisurely pace, grey giants against a steadily darkening navy blue sky. She wonders where she is – its not a neighbourhood she recognises and in her haste to escape, she’d left her phone behind. She groans and lays back across the side walk, hands over her face because only she could run away from her problems – which turn out to be not as problematic once she thinks about it – and end up completely lost with no way to get home or contact someone. She hasn’t even got any cash, nothing in her pockets apart from half a pack of gum and a couple of scrunched up receipts. Maybe she could just lie here all night, watching the sky, illuminated by the luminescent glow of the streetlights and then try to make her way home in the morning, when it was safer and she could maybe see a bus or two to help her figure out her location.

She begins to wonder what Clarke and Anya are doing, if they’re looking for her, if they’re still at home worried that they’ve scared her away for good. God why did she keep doing this to them? Why would they even want a relationship with someone like her? She groans out loud again, muffled by her hands and holds back a scream of frustration. Her mind just could not stop for one damn moment.

“Excuse me, I was watching you from my house and wondered if you needed any help?”

She jolts at the voice, hands coming away from her face to look up at a kindly looking woman. She had a round face and a gentle smile, reassuring and soft, motherly in a way. She was dressed casually in sweats and a hoodie, flip flops on her feet and her hair was slightly damp, obviously from a shower.

Embarrassed, Lexa sits up and looks down at her shoes. “I uh, I got lost on my run. Forgot my phone.” She mumbles, trying her best to avoid looking at this stranger in the eye. Though they seemed nice enough, she was a bit messed up at that moment and not really eager to share that with a complete stranger. The woman chuckles and suddenly sits down next to her.

“I’m sure that’s what happened.” Her tone makes it obvious she doesn’t believe Lexa, but there’s no malice, no obvious danger, so Lexa stays where she is, resting her elbows on her knees. She doesn’t look at the stranger, continues to stare resolutely down at her shoes in the hopes that complete silence will drive the stranger away.

“I can drive you home if you want. I need to head to the city for medicine before the pharmacy closes. My son has a bit of a temperature.”

She ponders it. She doesn’t really want to try walking home considering its nearly completely dark out and she’s kinda exhausted after running that much even though she’d hit the gym earlier in the day. The person didn’t seem like a murderer and even if she was, Lexa was sure she was stronger than this stranger and would be able to escape should the situation call for it. With a sigh she decides ‘fuck it’ because isn’t that what her life is all about at the moment? Shit coming at her out of the left field and she’s just rolling with it in the hope that she doesn’t get hit.

“Alright. As long as that’s no problem. I live in Stonefield Heights.” She clambers to her feet and the woman does the same, nodding towards her sedan.

“Its no problem at all, dear.”  
  


* * *

  
When she finally arrives back at the apartment building and the kind woman (Mary was her name, apparently) has driven off, she just sort of stops. Her mind is buzzing again and she can feel her heart rate climb rapidly. She takes a deep, shuddery breath to steel her resolve then unlocks the door to the reception and heads on up the stairs. With each step she tries to reassure herself – “you can do it”, “they wont reject you”, “its real, they’re real, you’re real” “this is happening”.

She stands outside her door for a few minutes, listening but she can’t hear anything from inside. She psyches herself up, pacing back and forth down the hallway a couple of times until she works herself up to the point where she swings the door open with reckless abandon.

She sees Anya jump up, worried and fear and no longer concealed affection on her face. She takes a step forward, but stops and then steps back, obviously trying to give Lexa some space.

“Listen, we don’t have to talk about it. We can pretend it never happened.”

The words sound rehearsed and Lexa wonders how many times Anya’s been practising them in her head. Clarke appears in the doorway to the kitchen, standing warily as if she was observing a wild animal.

“No. No we can’t. Not when I want to try.”

It takes a moment, but then Clarke is the first to move, quite literally throwing herself at Lexa and drawing her into a bone-crushing hug, fingers digging into her shoulders as they grip desperately at her tee. She's talking but its muffled from here her face is pressed tightly against Lexa's collarbone and she can't help but feel her chest rush with warmth and affection. There's no dam on her feelings now, no holding back and thinking of Clarke in coalition with Anya. She returns the hug, almost tentatively, before she feels the warmth tingle down her arms and to her fingers and then she's holding on to Clarke for dear life, pressing her nose into the crown of her head.

"Holy shit," Clarke mutters repeatedly, disbelieving but ultimately excited and happy. "Anya get your ass over here and join in the best hug I've ever had."

As Anya wanders over, Lexa glances up to look at her and can tell she's nervous. For someone so full of confidence and life, Anya was a bag of nerves and overthinking when it came to relationships. This was more than understandable. This was new ground for them, uncharted and undiscovered. She's sure it'll be mostly the same but now there's meaning to their actions.

She holds up her right arm and Anya all but falls into the embrace and then they're all pressed together, grinning stupidly, like they've all just won the lottery. Lexa knows its going to take work, that this is going to require her to really make an effort for all of them to be happy and that finding a balance will not come easy.

But here, in this moment, she knows it'll be worth it no matter what.


	8. Chapter 8

They talk of boundaries and the semantics of the relationship over pasta and too much garlic bread. The atmosphere seems pretty much the same but lighter somehow. There’s no walls, no holding back. Gazes are held for a tad longer than before, shy smiles shared as hands brush reaching for the last bit of garlic bread, thighs touching with a new familiarity. They’ve all squeezed on the sofa and although it’s a tight fit, they’re all pretty content despite elbows knocking every so often as they try to eat, plates balanced on their laps.

“Okay, so I want to make my intentions clear,” Clarke begins through a mouthful of pasta, waving her fork around. “Lexa, I’m going to woo you, like I did with Anya. Be prepared for dates and flowers and awful serenades in the car.”

The blood rises in Lexa’s cheeks and she laughs at the determination in her tone. Being wooed by Clarke doesn’t sound bad in the slightest. Its not like Clarke is going to have to try too hard anyway.

Anya on the other hand scoffs, elbowing Clarke in the ribs. “I don’t remember being wooed. I remember getting into a fight with you then having you tattoo me a week later.”

“And it all went downhill from there.” Clarke agrees with a cheerful laugh. “I still can’t believe you decked me and now we’re here. I ranted about your nasty right hook for a whole week.”

Forkful of food half-way to her mouth, Lexa frowns and turns to look at the two of them, sitting there grinning at each other like the love-struck fools they were. “I’m not surprised really, but are you genuinely saying you agreed to go on a date with Anya after she punched you?”

“Actually I asked her out.” Clarke responds almost smugly, tilting her chin up with pride. Anya scoffs but there’s a smile on her face as she shovels more food into her mouth in an obvious attempt to stop herself from responding. Clarke takes this as a victory and nudges Anya with a smile. “I’m glad we hit it off. Not literally though. My cheek still aches just thinking about that.”

The comfortable air in the room soothes Lexa, makes her smile with ease and she feels herself melting into the sofa, empty plate sitting on her lap and contentedness seeping deep into her bones, moving through the cracks in her soul like ivy. There’s a tingling spreading under her skin, anticipation mingling with happiness and she can only stare at the wall with what she knows is a goofy grin on her face.

“ I guess the important thing we need to remember is that each relationship is going to move at its own pace.” Anya states as she stands up, picking up the empty plates from everyone else. “I don’t want it to feel like we’ve got to catch up to the level of intimacy that Clarke and I have.”

Both nod in understanding at Anya’s words as she heads over to the kitchen. Clarke looks after her with something akin to wonder in her eyes before turning that gaze towards Lexa and she feels an electric shock roll through her system. It was almost unnerving if it weren’t for the little smile she wore.

“What?” She finally asks after a few minutes and Clarke only shrugs in response. “I’m just happy. I really want us all to be able to make this work, you know?” Lexa can’t help the wide smile across her face. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.”  
  


* * *

They agree that they’ll try individual dates and to keep all the relationships as separate entities for now, until they settle comfortably and then they can decide where to go from there. It’s a strange change of pace for Lexa because in reality, its not that different from normal. But now when Clarke comes over in the evenings, she’s got a bouquet of flowers with Tiger Lilies for Anya and Yellow Chrysanthemums for Lexa. When they all go to bed, Clarke hugs her before they leave for separate rooms and Anya looks at her with a far-too intense gaze. Anya insists on cooking dinner when its just the two of them and when they sit either side of the table, there’s a new level of intimacy that makes Lexa’s heart flip.

It’s a sweltering Thursday evening when plans are made for the first date. Lexa is slouched over the little dining table in the kitchen, papers all around her as she tries to budget in advance for her

next year of university. Anya sits opposite her, going over calculations with a frown, a pair of glasses perched on the edge of her nose.

“I don’t think you’re going to be able to drop the job.” She states after almost an hour of silence and Lexa groans because it’s the same conclusion she had drawn from looking at her finances.

“I might be able to if I get rid of the storage unit.” She doesn’t want to, because the unit was absolutely full of all sorts of crap left over from the deaths of both her grandmother and great uncle, the only two blood relatives she had ever known. It was foolishly sentimental to keep the items in the storage unit, she knows, but it pains her to think that in selling it all she would have nothing left from her family.

Anya nods in understanding, though there’s a worry to her gaze. “You don’t want to get rid of it though.”

Lexa heaves a sigh and throws her head back, covering her face with her hands as she lets out a frustrated groan. She hated budgeting, but she hated being unsure of her finances more. This was something she had done since she was 16 and it had worked every year but damn if it didn’t stress her out.

She stands up eventually, pulling her phone out and calling the storage company where she had a locker. She stands by the window while she talks with them, tries to work out a better deal before finally deciding she’d visit it and see if she could downgrade to a smaller locker. She could get rid of some processions, but not all of them; it was a good middle ground for now at least.

When she returns to the kitchen, Anya has shuffled all the papers away back in the file box and is in the midst of stirring some sugar into a cup of coffee. “Any luck?”

Lexa shrugs, picking up the cup Anya had set aside for her, sipping at it right away because Anya always made sure her coffee was at a drinkable temperature. “Going to see if I can get a smaller lot. Sell some stuff too, so that should boost my savings and balance it all out, hopefully.” She takes another sip and settles back down at the table. “I’m going round tomorrow since I have another day off. Will see if Raven can meet me with her flatbed.”

“I’ll come too – gyms closed for a tournament of some sorts tomorrow so I’ve got the day off. We could go out for dinner afterwards, if you want?”

With a shrug Lexa agrees casually but Anya isn’t done yet. “I was thinking we could go to a place by the bank. The Thai place.”

Lexa pauses at that, looks up to face Anya properly as her face starts to break out in a smirk. “That’s an awfully fancy place to go to after hauling dusty furniture.”

Anya hums in response, drinking from her coffee but keeping her gaze level with Lexa. “It is. But it’s a very nice destination for a date.”

“Are you asking me out on a date or just making an observation?”

Anya huffs, setting her empty mug down with a loud thunk. “I think you know the answer to that.”

Lexa hasn’t riled her up like this in a while. She’d forgotten how fun it was. “I don’t know, you’re not being very concise with your words today, Anya.” She smiles coyly over the rim of her mug. Anya rolls her eyes and leans back in her chair, as if trying to distance herself from the childish conversation.

“You’re insufferable like this. I forgot how troublesome you could be.” She pinches her nose and sighs out her mouth, louder and exaggerated than she would if she really were annoyed. There’s a hint of a smile on her face. “Do you want to go on a date with me to a horrendously over-priced restaurant on the other side of town after a day of shifting ancient artefacts that you have inherited due to unfortunate circumstances?”

Lexa leans back in her chair, a hand on her chin as if contemplating the question. Anya has an expression of amusement that also looks irritated; something only she could pull off. Lexa regards her fondly, a small smile spreading across her face because really, how could she say no?

“It’s a date.”  
  


* * *

 

Somehow the task of clearing out her storage unit has gathered a small crowd and instead of just Anya and Raven accompanying her, Clarke, Octavia and Lincoln also turn up. Lincoln also has a flatbed truck which Lexa is thankful for – less trips back to Raven’s garage, where she is keeping the items she plans to sell.

Her stuff is contained at the far end of a large yard full of industrial sized shipping containers. Lexa’s is nearly full.

Clarke whistles as she stands in the front of it, looking back over the jumble of boxes and furniture and dusty sheets. “You got a lot of crap, Lexa.”

“That doesn’t even include emotional baggage,” Lexa jokes as she too steps into the container and grabs two crumpled cardboard boxes and brings them out onto the concrete outside. Clarke barks with laughter before joining her in picking up a rolled up old rug that she struggles with for a moment before Lincoln easily lifts it out of her arms. She grumbles at Octavia who laughs and helps her pick up a couple of old chairs and take them out to where they’re dumping everything for Lexa to sort through.

There’s a large empty expanse, more than enough space for them to fit both trucks and a couple of fold-out camping chairs and a small cooler of water and questionable bottles. They were certainly making a day of this.

It’s a few hours of rigorous work in the sweltering heat, but they joke around and drink and generally have a good time whilst Lexa quietly looks through each item with both a sentimental and calculating eye. She needs to compartmentalise, to separate the nostalgia in favour of practicality and Anya is there next to her, a warm presence to sooth when she gets lost too deeply in her thoughts. She thought the whole situation would bring her down more than it actually does, but the presence of good friends helps to keep her grounded and Clarke's ease and Anya's steadfast support make her feel like she's sorting out a jumble sale and not the past processions of her previous guardians. The small, stolen touches between her and Clarke helps significantly too - soft brushing of fingers as they pass items over, the press of shoulders as they stand closer than necessary - but also increases the amount of sweat rolling down her back as she struggles in the heat.

By two in the afternoon, they’re through about three-quarters of the container and there’s already been two trips to Raven’s garage to dump stuff off. Lexa has decided to sell most of the furniture bar her grandmother’s favourite armchair, a mahogany writing desk and a very expensive rug. There’s several boxes of books she’s trying to sort through with Clarkes help, moving each title into a pile that was either keep, donate or sell. She comes across the entire collection of Fifty Shades of Grey but before she can chuck the books into the donate pile with a horrified expression (she doesn't know what is worst - the idea her grandmother read them or the idea her great uncle read them), Raven gleefully grabs one and flips it open to a random page and begins to read excerpts aloud in a faux-British accent, causing everyone to burst into almost hysterical laughter. They end up taking a half an hour break, calling up Octavia’s brother Bellamy to bring them some lunch from the Bakery he works at and Lexa is pleased to find he’s enjoyable company, settling into an easy conversation about books and history while the others take turns reading utterly bizarre descriptions of sexual abuse.

Its all very relaxed until Clarke gets up to start on the last stretch and promptly lets out a scream on

reaching the end of the container. Whether of fear or excitement is hard to decipher but in a flash Lexa is up on her feet and rushing into the container. Adrenaline pulses through her body, makes her heart thrum in an almost pleasant way. This isn’t fear, but rather protective instinct and she sprints down the container until she can see Clarke standing with a dust sheet in her arms and wide, excited eyes staring at something Lexa had forgotten about for almost two years.

“You never told me you had a bike!”

Lexa relaxes, lets the rush seep from her veins as she steps forward to rest a hand almost reverently on the motorbike. “I kind of forgot about it, to be honest.”

It’s a beautiful thing, a Yamaha YR5 350 that she had picked up as a rusted piece of shit when she was eighteen. She’d left it at her Great Uncle’s house until he died and then she met Raven before she had a chance to dump it and together they had made it into the prime specimen it was today. It was completely refurbished, anything they couldn’t salvage swapped out for expertly crafted replicas of the originals.

Raven barges past Clarke then, all wild motions and pure excitement. “You still have the YR5! Man, I haven’t seen this thing in ages. My paintjob is holding up pretty well. And look at that, the seat looks as good as new. Was totally worth paying the extra for the leathercraft.” She runs her fingers gently over the neat stitching of the seat and then across the smooth surface of the shimmering green bodywork. The chrome was dull, but it was nothing a good wash and wax couldn’t clean up. Lexa hums and follows Raven as she limps around it, pleased with this discovery. She had put it in storage when she had started university, deciding the upkeep of the bike was just too costly for her now narrow budget and had genuinely let the knowledge of its existence slip from her mind.

“I thought you had sold it. You don’t understand how excited I am to see the old girl again.” Raven speaks with more sentimentality than should really be applied to a motor vehicle but the group (all of whom are now crammed in the space to see the bike) let it slip because what was Raven without her eccentricities. Lexa can’t help but smile and turns to the stacks of boxes behind the bike, beginning to rummage through them for her helmet and leathers. She knows they’ll be in here somewhere.

“I had it up for sale. Nearly sold it, had the cash right in front of me, just over two grand but I couldn’t do it.” She leaves out the fact Anya had come home at that exact moment and had said simply “Its your decision but I know you’ll regret it. I will regret it too.”

Raven looks horribly offended. “Two grand? This baby is worth at least three and half if its got a full tank and I know you Woods, you wouldn’t let it go without a full tank.”

Anya laughs as she triumphantly holds up the matt black helmet, lifting up her shirt to wipe across

the visor and both Clarke and Lexa seem to loose track of the conversation for a few short minutes. “Speaking of fuel,” she states once she’s happy with the visibility of the helmet, “there’s a tub of it here and your leathers. Want to see if she still starts?”

Lexa hums, not really wanting to waste time as its already three and the lot closes at 5, but the rest of them start cheering and chanting and she has no say in the matter. She sighs without really meaning it and takes the leathers from Anya, kicking off her boots and pulling the leathers on over her bare legs, glad she had chosen to wear shorts instead of jeans. She shrugs off her plaid shirt, leaving her only in a tank and pulls the leathers over her shoulders, grunting as she feels the outfit constrict around her shoulders and biceps. She’s certainly gained more muscle mass since the last she wore this.

She turns to take the helmet from Anya and is surprised to see her looking mildly flustered with Clarke standing next to her with a mischievous grin on her face. Lexa raises a brow in a silent question but Anya just shakes her head and shoves the helmet into her hands. The mild tension is broken by Raven proclaiming “She’s ready to go!”

They wheel the bike out to the yard and Lexa swings her leg over it with practiced ease. There’s a nostalgic comfort to the straddling the bike and she can’t stop the giddy smile that takes over her face. After Raven does another sweep around it, checking bits and pieces, kicking the tyres for good measure, she finally tries to turn it on. It turns over a couple of times before roaring to life with a huff of almost black smog out the exhaust. The group cheer and before they’re even finished, she kicked up the stand and is driving off at a speed she really shouldn’t be doing in the small lot, but she can’t help but show off a little. Its been so long and yet it feels like no time has passed since she last rode, the control of the bike still just the same as before. There’s that adrenaline rush again, warm and vivid rushing through her veins, almost freeing and ethereal, how she expects it would feel to free fall. She hasn’t felt this sort of rush with the absence of fear for a long time – perhaps not since just after high school.

She banks around a stack of containers, taking it a tad too wide and nearly clipping herself on the corner but before it even has time to phase her she’s heading back to the group. Raven looks near to tears, as if she’s watching her child take its first steps, Bellamy looks like he’s trying to hold back a smile, Lincoln is staring at Octavia and Octavia is staring at Raven. Clarke is sitting on the back of a half loaded truck, legs dangling over the edge of the tailgate with Anya standing in between them, arms around each other. The sight sends something through her stomach and chest and she’s unsure if its jealousy or affection or something else entirely. Nevertheless, she races towards them, breaking at literally the last minute, screeching to a halt alongside the truck Clarke is perched on. Raven is yelling at her, but she tunes it out as she flips up her visor to meet Clarke and Anya’s cheerful faces.

“Done showing off?” Anya drawls and Lexa chuckles in response as she takes the helmet off.

“I’m definitely driving this home. I can fit it in the same space as the car or pay for another space, I don’t even care. I don’t think I could let this go again even if I wanted to.”

“If you do get rid of it, at least keep the leathers.” Clarke muses with faux-innocence, 'because I'm pretty sure me and Anya have just discovered a joint kink." She winks at Lexa's bewilderment just before Raven and Octavia make it over to them. Clarke shoots Lexa a grin that is matched by Anya before she's bombarded by questions from Raven and requests to ride from Octavia. She can't help but laugh cheerfully as she dismounts and wheels it away in preparation for finishing off the container.

She keeps the leathers on.  
  


* * *

 

The temperature cools and just as the manager comes round to tell them they're closing, they've just finished securing the last of the 'for sale' pile on the trucks and are getting ready to leave. Lexa ignores the twist of her stomach as Anya reminds her of their reservations for 8 before she climbs into Clarke's car and Clarke looks thoroughly offended that Anya beat her to the punch of sorting out a date. "We'll sort something out soon," Clarke says in a reassuring tone to Lexa, though whether she was reassuring herself or Lexa was hard to decipher.

Lexa lets them all leave while she regards the significantly emptier container. She'd come back the next time she had a day off to move what was left into a smaller container, but for now, she has the content feeling of a job well done and a surprising weight lifted off her shoulders. Finally, after enough introspection and dwelling on memories, she locks the doors and takes off after the others on the bike.


	9. The Craziest of Golfs

Lexa can’t believe its been five years since she last went on a date. Everything feels so surreal, almost nostalgic as she carefully applies some mascara in front of the small, dusty mirror in the corner of her room. Her head is buzzing but she’s holding back any panic by concentrating on her make-up and the soft hum of the hairdryer in the other room where Anya is getting ready and its working relatively well. She’s not concentrating on the what ifs – ‘what if this doesn’t work out’, ‘what if this is an unmitigated disaster’, ‘what if she ends up hating me?’ – but instead is concentrating on the little things. Making sure the collar of her shirt is folded neatly, her belt is through all the loops, her nails are clean and there’s nothing in between her teeth. She’s not one for preening usually – its been a long time since she looked in a mirror and saw anything other than shadows under her eyes and hair in disarray. Seeing herself now, with her hair tucked over one should, loose and wavy and clean and her face accented by light make-up, she feels both like a stranger and more like herself than she has in a long time. She’s spent so long stuck in a rut, stuck in the shadows of self-loathing and poor self care that seeing herself in the mirror is almost unreal, like she’s seeing an artist’s impression of herself. She sighs and stands, deciding to wait on the couch and away from any mirrors.

“Oh wow. Shit, you clean up real well.”

She almost trips up in the door frame entering the living room, not expecting Clarke to be there with a wide grin on her face as she lounges on the sofa. “Not to say you don’t look good normally but well....I’m pretty jealous of Anya right now. Or am I envious? What even is the right word in this occasion? You look good! That’s what I’m trying to say.”

Lexa feels herself relax at Clarke’s rambling. She’s not even the one going on the date and she’s nervous, so Lexa has every right to be so herself.

“Am I too casual, do you think?” She glances down at the ensemble she picked from what little

clean and non-creased clothes she had available. Black jeans, plaid shirt and her old combat boots. God, she was a walking stereotype.

She watches as Clarke looks her up and down with a scrutinising little frown before sitting up from her slouched position with a smile. “Not at all. As Goldilock’s says, you look just right!” She draws out the syllable on the ‘just’, shuffling along to allow Lexa a space to sit down on the sofa.

“So wait, does that make me a bear?”  
“I think that term is solely for men, sorry Lex.”

Clarke giggles and Lexa tries to hold down the blush trying to make its way across her cheeks and neck. “You know that’s not what I mean.”

“Leave her alone Clarke. What are you even doing here? How did you get in?” Anya steps through the door, looking surprisingly soft in a knitted sweater and blue jeans. She’s cleaning her glasses on the edge of her top and Clarke’s expression changes from amused to something much more tender.

“I came in with your key which you still haven’t taken back,” she responds while getting up. “Anyway, I only popped in to make sure Lexa wasn’t running that pretty mind of her’s in circles before your date. Have fun you two, be back by ten, don’t take candy from strangers, text me when you’re home and all that other stuff.” She leans over to give Anya a quick peck on the cheek and turns to Lexa, moving as if to do the same before stopping herself and stepping back with a warm smile. “I’ll see you guys later. I’m going round to Raven’s to watch some horror movies.”

And like that she’s gone. The door swinging shut behind her with a resolute bang and the atmosphere is back to stilted and awkward. Lexa glances over to Anya out of the corner of her eye, trying her best not to stand too straight or fidget, to let her anxiety be known. Anya places her glasses back on and shoots Lexa quick smile before picking up her keys and slipping on her ankle boots. “We should get going. Reservations are for half seven and I’m starving.”

Something clicks in Lexa’s mind at that. This may be a date, but its nothing out of the ordinary really. They’re just going to go get food and chat. They’ve done that hundreds of times before, is really nothing extraordinary, nothing vastly important in the grand scheme of things. She stands up a little straighter, smooths out the creases that have formed in her shirt and then, in a surprising move to herself and apparently Anya too, opens the door and offers Anya her arm. “Lets go then.”

Anya’s quiet chuckle warms her cheeks and soon they’re heading to the car, arm in arm and it just all feels...right.

The restaurant is busy – noisy and bustling and a little cluttered. The tables are all crammed in, the business obviously trying to fit as many people in as the can even if that means that some tables have barely any room to move the chair out to get up without bashing into the diners behind them. Anya and Lexa are lucky to be placed next to the wall where they’re allowed a little more room. There’s a strange red flower in the middle of the table in a bowl and accompanied by two tealights that flicker when they speak. The food is as excellent as they’ve heard, though Anya complains that what they advertised as won tons were something completely different to ‘real’ won tons. Lexa eats it all the same, listening with rapt attention as Anya talks about traditional cooking her grandma taught her and how her uncle apparently owns a restaurant in Vietnam though she hasn’t been to visit in a long, long time.

“He’s a nice guy. Thinks he should be a comedian but knows his food is a bit more...public friendly, I guess.” Anya is leaning back in her seat, hands clasped and resting on the table. The dim lighting makes her hair almost brown, cascading over her left shoulder like molten chocolate and Lexa is captivated by the way it contrasts with the light dancing across her cheekbones. “You’d like him.”

Lexa raises a brow, shifts so that her head is no longer propped up on the knuckles of her right hand. “Oh?”

“Yeah, his humour is all terrible puns and plays on words. Right up your street.” Before Lexa can respond, Anya flags down their waiter and hands over her card to pay the bill. “You up for a little adventure or do you want to head home? We’ve already been out two hours now, so I understand if you want to go back.”

If she’s honest, Lexa is a starting to feel tired from the excitement earlier in the day but the gentle, earnest way Anya asks after her lifts her spirits and she’s curious about a little adventure. Everything has gone so well so far and she’s wary for the inevitable crash but she knows there’s a deep instinctual safeness she feels with Anya and she’d probably follow her into an active volcano without question.

“A little adventure sounds rather enticing actually.” “I was hoping you’d say that.”

In the grand list of things she had expected Anya to count as an ‘adventure’, crazy golf was certainly not that high up. She stares up at the fading plastic pirate statue, the wooden signed proclaiming “Pirate’s Cove Adventure Golf! Fun for the whole family!” and then in smaller font “*For ages 8-75” and feels uncontrollable laughter bubbling up. She can’t hold it back, lets the first wave break free with a snort and when she finally thinks its subsided, she glances over to see a grotesque plastic parrot at the front desk that’s missing and eye and half its beak and she’s off again, the cackles of laughter uncontainable. Its good to laugh like this, blindsided by it and utterly helpless to the stitch building in her side.

“I really wasn’t expecting this. You do know I’m going to kick your ass at this, right?”

Anya has already paid the two dollar entrance fee and is standing by the deserted first hole swinging her club around like a baton, amused and fond as she holds out Lexa’s club for her. “We’ll see. You may have natural lesbian stereotype skills but I’m determined to get my money’s worth out of this.”

Lexa feels competitiveness rise in her and by the time they’ve reach hole 9 of the 12 hole course, she’s ahead by three points. Anya keeps grumbling, repeating the same joke of “the goal is to get the highest number, right?” though its obvious she’s having fun despite losing. When they walk between holes, their shoulders bump and they share small smiles and its really worth fighting the chill wind without no jacket and ignoring the disapproving looks of the only other people using the course - a family of four, with the two kids oblivious to their parent’s scowls. Lexa can feel their gazes gnawing at the edge of her anxiety but Anya’s presence and constant chatter is much better at holding her attention and she pushes the unease to one side to laugh as Anya misses the little ramp up into a wooden keg for the fourth time on a par three.

“This damn thing is rigged, I swear.” She smashes the ball to try and get it over the little barrier, but it bounces off and goes flying behind them, right into the radius of the scowling family. Lexa looks on with unease as Anya storms over to get it and can already feel the icy grip of fear and panic take hold as the man starts to approach Anya. She can see them talking, Anya standing in her most defensive position possible – arms folding over her chest, gold club resting on one shoulder. The man is getting increasingly red as she responds in the calm, passive aggressive way Anya is skilled at and suddenly he starts gesturing back towards his nervous looking children with sharp, aggressive gestures.

The anxiety is overwhelming, a pure almost primal fear surging through Lexa as she watches something unfold that she had forgotten could even exist in this day and age. She’s positive that whatever he’s saying is homophobic, words laced with acid and spite and ignorance and there Anya is, taking it all in her stride. She could walk away, but that’s not her nature. She’ll never initiate a fight, but she’s not above waiting for it to begin but Lexa on the other-hand would rather they just call it quits while their ahead – read; they’re still alive and uninjured.

She begins to head over to drag Anya away, but then the guy snaps out a vile derogatory word and lifts his arm to throw a punch, and she’s off at a run, instinct and desperation driving her forward to tackle the asshole to the ground like a rugby player intercepting a forward push. He’s not a relatively big guy, but he’s certainly got more weight to him than Anya and more anger in his actions and if that punch had hit it would’ve been a nasty impact. She isn’t thinking much about that though and she isn’t scared – its like her whole body has been drained of any emotion but a white hot rage that this brute of a man would even try to lay a hand on the one good thing she has going for her. She has no ownership over Anya, but she still feels possessive and protective and goddamned furious as she pushes her forearm down over his throat despite his gross dirty hands scrabbling at her clothes in an attempt to get her off him. She’s faintly aware of Anya yelling in the background and the children crying but she’s not going to stop until the threat is subdued and he submits – if she were to get up and let him go now he’d probably attack while their backs were turned and she wasn’t going to let that happen. She’s only got enough energy in her for a fight now.

He slams his hand on the ground three times, like someone tagging out of a spar and her instinct breaks through again – too many hours spent sparing in gyms with Anya, in the dojang when she was a teenager and trying to find her place in the world, trying to find a way to channel her rage at being alone. She pulls back from him and springs to her feet, taking two steps back but retaining a defensive stance. She feels her heart hammering, blood tingling through her fingertips, fighter’s instinct so ingrained that she has to force herself to remember breathing patterns to bring it all down. Its been too long but she knows everything she did was completely against all the self- defence ideals she had been taught and can tell she’s going to have a big breakdown over this but right now she needs to stay strong, keep face in front of this homophobic family of assholes. She stands tall, chin tilted upwards in a regal yet defiant look and keeps her hands curled into fists, ready to react should he try again, although by the way he coughs and groans, now on his hands and knees, she doesn’t think he’s going to be a problem.

She so concentrated on the man being the only threat, that the golf club to her face completely blindsides her.

She’s face down in the ground when she opens her eyes, and although it feels like seconds, she has a feeling its been a few minutes since she was struck. She can hear more voices now, but the world spinning and pain radiating like a jolt electricity across her face and she’s pretty sure she’s going to be sick. The pain is both sharp and an ache and she can taste blood but it doesn’t register. Everything feels surreal, out of body, like she’s walking a horrid and painful dream. She’s shakily trying to get back to her feet, back on the defensive but her brain is not latching on to anything, floating in confusion, too many things for it to try and concentrate on in its sluggish state. A part of her wants to cry, another part wants to scream and another wants to just curl up on the grass and go back to sleep.

“C’mon Lex, lets get you up. We’ve got to go now, adventure over.” Anya’s voice is tight, the tone she uses when she’s trying to hold back disappointment or anger or some other negative emotion and Lexa’s stomach lurches even more. She’s definitely going to be sick.

She doesn’t register getting to her feet, doesn’t remember Anya slinging an arm around her chest and supporting most of her weight as she stumbles out of the golf course and towards the back alleyway that leads to the parking lot they had left the car in. She stumbles and groans and finally her brain seems to catch up to whats going on and she barely has enough time to shove Anya away before she’s chucking up in the doorway of the fire exit of whatever this building is. Its not a lot, mostly bile and some of the noodles and when she’s done, she leans heavily against the wall, head tilted back to rest against the cool stone wall in an attempt to halt the spinning and intense throbbing that’s radiating across her cheek. She’s a bit more conscious, a bit more aware now – she can feel the dampness across her jeans where she had been lying in the cold grass, the heaviness of her right arm and the swelling that’s forcing her left eye shut. God she had been hit hard.

In front of her, Anya is standing with her fists clenched, jaw working thought its clamped shut and she’s sure Anya’s grinding her teeth. She’s seething with rage, that much is obvious, her back to Lexa as she stares back the way they had come, watchful and cautious.

Lexa feels sick again, though not from the injury this time. She’s ruined the night. They were having fun, they were joking about and enjoying each other’s company and it had all felt so right. She just had to go and ruin it by being a damned idiot. She wants to cry but holds it back because she’s sure crying will hurt like hell right now and she needs to be strong, needs to let Anya know there’s be no hard feelings over taking a step back as a result of this.

“I’m sorry I ruined tonight. This was an unmitigated disaster.”

Anya glances over her shoulder only briefly, mutters a quiet “It wasn’t” before going back to staring down the alleyway.

“Anya really it’s okay. We can call this a failure and try again another time. Or never again, if you don’t want to. I’d understand. I wouldn’t like it but uh, I’d get it. No hard feelings and all that.”

Anya huffs in response, spinning around to stare Lexa down with a scowl. She doesn’t speak, doesn’t make a move, just breathes steadily, in and out, and Lexa realises just how close they are. She can feel the old wall behind her, solid and steady unlike her racing heart that feels more like the nervous flutter of a fledgling than a stable beat. This is too much, too close, too enclosed. She shouldn’t feel this way, shouldn’t feel trapped by Anya’s presence but for the first time ever her overbearing frame and stoic face are overwhelming.

“Anya...” Her words halt in their tracks, an emergency stop of her thoughts as her tongue suddenly feels too thick in her mouth, her throat dry and her skin clammy. Anya’s hand is resting gently on her right cheek, thumb brushing over the unmarked skin in a featherlight touch. Her body has softened as she always does with Lexa, relaxed and malleable like clay and although her physical being is much closer than Lexa is used to, her expression looks so far away, lost to distant lands inside her head.

“I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t want to Lexa. But I do. I do now and I will tomorrow, despite everything that has happened and will happen.” She pauses, eyes drifting over to her other cheek and the steadily growing bruise there. “And if anyone lays a hand on you again, I’ll kill them. And then you, for putting yourself in such a situation again because holy shit Lex you can’t do stuff like that. It...” She swallows and blinks and Lexa feels a lump in her chest as the watery sheen across Anya’s eyes. “It scares the hell out of me.”

Lexa wants to avert her eyes (well, eye) but she can’t bring herself to do so. They’re locked in this moment, timeless and endless, an eternal stalemate until one of them makes the next move. She feels froze, like control over her body, her reality has been stripped from her as punishment for such a stupid fucking mistake and now she can do nothing but wait for Anya to move away, and yet, she doesn’t. She moves closer, lips parting slightly and Lexa feels everything grind to a stop, her heart, her thoughts, her blood. She can’t believe this is going to happen, when she’s still got bile stained on her lips, blood crusting around her nose, bruises across her cheek but she can’t help but anticipate it with a surprising eagerness, letting her own lips part just slightly. It doesn’t feel real and she’s wondering if she is concussed as Anya paused barely a hairs breadth away, breath mingling for a short moment before she pulls away leaving Lexa surprisingly disappointed.

“Sorry but...no offence Lexa but you stink right now. Bile isn’t exactly the flavour of the month.” Anya’s smirking but there’s no malice to it, though it seems just that little bit more strained than normal. “C’mon, lets get you home and give Nurse Griffin a shout.”

“Please don’t call her that...” Lexa mutters, thinking back to Raven’s ridiculous teasing a few months prior but pushes off the wall all the same and lets Anya slide an arm around her again, leading back to the car and the promise of a safe, warm bed and some strong painkillers. She feels Anya press a firm kiss to the top of her head when she rests it against her shoulder and guesses she could call the night a pass though perhaps not a success.


	10. 1010

They’re barely home more than an hour when the door slams open and Clarke, Raven, Octavia and Bellamy come charging into the apartment. Lexa groans and wants to curl up under her blanket but a frantic Clarke has told her over the phone to stay still and upright and to not fall asleep under any circumstances.

Anya sighs at the loud interlopers and shoots them the sharpest glare she can manage. Raven and Octavia recoil from the expression but Clarke breezes past, storming round to the front of the sofa to get a better look at Lexa. Her gasp is so loud its almost comical but Lexa is sure if she were to laugh right now Clarke would think her brain damaged and cart her off to hospital.

“Jesus Lexa, what the fuck happened?” She’s perched on the edge of the coffee table, tilting Lexa’s head with light pressure from the tips of her fingers. She’s concentrating solely on Lexa, completely oblivious from the curious gazes of the others who then scatter when Anya shoots them another glare. Raven hobbles into the kitchen with Octavia telling her she knows where the ‘good stuff’ is kept while Bellamy stands awkwardly by the doorway, having never been in the apartment before.

“Bellamy take a seat, you’re making me nervous.”

“Actually, I’ll just, uh go. I only came because Clarke flipped the fuck out in the middle of Saw five and made it sound like we were going to find Lexa missing half her head. And I’m the only one sober enough to legally drive.” He smiles, a little lopsided and a little awkward but it’s genuine and real. “Glad to see that’s not the case. I hope you heal up quickly!” He sticks his head into the kitchen and after a few minutes, heads out the door, Raven and Octavia in tow with a mouthful of pop tart and a surprisingly sober stare. “Keep us updated Griff.”

Anya rolls her eyes when the door finally shuts. Throughout the whole chaos, Clarke hadn’t taken her gaze off Lexa, tenderly prodding at her eye socket and temple, threading fingers through her hair searching for split skin or lumps. Her face is set hard and determined like it had been when they were struck with the flu, but her fingers shake as she makes Lexa tilt her head to the right and up. Lexa can feel them tremble as they drift over her jawline, up round to just under her ear and then across to her nose. The path makes her shiver and she does her best to hold it back so Clarke can investigate but she still shudders and Clarke leans back as soon as she does. “Sorry.” She murmurs, glancing past her to Anya before moving both hands to her nose. “I don’t think it’s broken, thankfully. You are definitely concussed – I need you to do some things to see how bad, okay?”

Lexa wants to close her eyes and just revel in Clarke’s voice, but she keeps her gaze level and nods determinedly. “Excellent. Firstly, I need you to grip my hands with yours, as strongly as you can.” Lexa raises a brow and does what Clarke asks, trying her best to pretend she isn’t aware of just how sweaty her palms are. She grips at Clarke’s hands and although she knows it’s against what Clarke asked, she doesn’t hold them with as much power as she can. She squeezes enough to show Clarke she’s fine without hurting her. Clarke herself is obviously aware it’s not her most powerful grip but lets it slide because it ticks one box in the checklist regardless. They go through other tests and questions while Anya hovers protectively behind her, occasionally reaching out to squeeze her shoulder as if to confirm she’s still there.

Finally Clarke leans back with a short, relieved exhale of breath. She orders Anya to go make a cold compress in the kitchen then leans forward to press a lingering kiss to Lexa’s forehead. “You’re okay.” She says it with a certain level of decisiveness, as if she’s telling the world that this is the case and nothing else can happen, then clambers onto the sofa and curls up next to Lexa, head lightly resting on her shoulder. “Why on earth did you think it was a good idea to tackle a homophobe to the ground?”

Lexa is almost too lost in the almost painful palpitations of her heart as she replays the feel of Clarke’s lips against her skin, but she eventually clocks that Clarke’s asked her a question and glances down at the blonde pressed against her side. Her first reaction is to shrug, but she doesn’t for Clarke’s sake. Instead she thinks. Why had she reacted so viciously? She’d been in uncomfortable situations before but had always made to stay back from them as best she could. She may be trained to fight in self defence but that never meant it is something she wants to do. Yet today had been her decision, her choice to get involved. She knows Anya, knows she’s more than capable of defending herself – the woman teaches self-defence classes for god’s sake. Her actions hadn’t been logical, but in fact completely emotional and in way she hadn’t experienced for a long time. It was a little astounding, to feel something so strongly that wasn’t self- depreciating in nature.

“I didn’t.” She finally responds as Anya comes back with one of the ice packs they keep in case of injury when they’re running. The second the cool material touches her aching cheek, she sighs in relief and lets her eyes slip shut. “I didn’t think at all. I just acted and I really, really shouldn’t have done that but I don’t...I don’t regret it.” Her voice is firm, resolute. She’s not going to regret this; she’s not going to let it get her down. In a way, blacking out when she did had been a small blessing as it had stalled the anxiety attack that had been building up and left her able to look at it with a certain clarity she doesn’t normally experience. “God what a fucking disaster.”

Anya nudges the back of her head, and she turns around to look at her (disrupting Clarke in the process). “What?”

“I told you, it wasn’t a disaster. We had fun at dinner and at golf until that guy started being a colossal dickbag. What’s done is done, anyway. No point in dwelling on it.” She shrugs then walks round to sit on the sofa too, though its now a bit of a squeeze with the three of them. Eventually Anya manages to settle herself pressed against Clarke with her arm across the back of the sofa so she can reach Lexa, fingers brushing at her shoulder. “We’ll just avoid any form of golf next time.”

All three of them laugh at that, Clarke nudging Anya when Lexa tilts her head back in an endearing way. When the amusement finally settles down, guffaws of laughter trailing into soft chuckles and finally gentle smiles, Lexa glances over to see the other two smiling at her. “What?”

Clarke has no restraint and breaks into her usual smile. “You look cute when you laugh like that.” Lexa feels herself grow a little embarrassed but doesn’t hold back and instead just smiles and responds, “I thought I was cute all the time?”

The other two burst into laughter again and Clarke wraps her arms around Lexa, pulling her down for a tight hug. Her head is spinning, the nausea flaring up again but she holds it back because it was good to be held in a way that wasn’t for comfort but just...because. Because they can, because this is what they do now. She feels soothed and safe, warm right down to her bones and she starts to relax into the embrace when Anya starts to whine.

“My back hurts, shift you two.” She’s wriggling, trying to move so her spine isn’t bent over the arm rest with Clarke leaning back into her. There’s a lot of shuffling and complaints and huffing but eventually they settle, Clarke in the middle and comfortable under the weight of Lexa on top of her and the warmth of Anya at her back. .

Once they’re all relaxed (or at least, once Anya stops complaining and mutters a quiet ‘Yeah this is fine’) Clarke picks up the remote and turns the TV on. “I think we need to watch Happy Gilmore.”

The groans of complaint only make her laugh.  
  


* * *

 

  
When Lexa wakes up the next morning, she ‘s a little startled by the feel of another body pressed against her. She’s so used to being cocooned alone in her duvet in the early mornings that waking up on the sofa almost uncomfortably warm with the body heat of another person. There’s twin noises of complaint as she extracts herself from the mess of limbs on the sofa, shaking the static from her right-hand side and groaning as her back clicks and creaks back into place. Clarke has sat up by now, rubbing blearily at her eyes while Anya stretches out as best she can before rolling over to stuff her face into the cushions.

“Damn Lexa, that’s one hell of a shiner now.” Clarke’s blinking hurriedly in an attempt to keep herself awake, but there’s concern lacing her hoarse voice. She steps forward and Lexa can’t help but hold her breath as fingers brush gently over her jaw and up her cheek. “Have you got work today?”

Not trusting herself to speak, Lexa only manages a nod in response. Clarke is close, closer than she had even been the day before when tending to the immediate aftermath, body warmth rolling over Lexa as if she were standing next to a space heater. She has no idea how Clarke is so warm (although she certainly knows Clarke’s hot in a whole other way) but it makes her own skin prickle with heat, hair standing on end and her sleep fogged mind can concentrate on only the slight parting of Clarke’s lips. The light touch grows firm around the eye socket and she tries not to wince, though the ache flares and extends around the eye and across to the bridge of her nose. After what seems like hours, Clarke steps back with a wide yawn then smiles almost sadly at Lexa. “I better head home to get ready. I’m supposed to be opening the store in an hour.”

Lexa’s mind can barely process the words, still caught up on the feel of fingertips on her skin and she mumbles an inarticulate response that only makes Clarke giggle. “I’m going to come check up on you around midday when I take my lunch break. Go have a shower champ, you’ll feel better for it.” She squeezes Lexa’s forearm before spinning around and quite literally kicking Anya’s ass. “Get up, your first class is at 10am and I know you’re going to want to get in at least an hour before to set up. Which only leaves you one hour to actually get ready.”

Anya whines, slapping the air behind her blindly but Clarke has already moved to the door and slipped her shoes on. “See you later sweethearts.” She calls out as the door shuts.

The mildly dazed smile doesn’t leave Lexa’s face for the rest of the day.  
  


* * *

 

  
After the first date debacle, Lexa and Anya are both back to a packed working schedule. With her university course starting up again in two weeks, Lexa is stuck in to reading and making notes in preparation for her first classes. Getting ahead while she can really helps her stay stable during the first few weeks which are always the most intense while she finds her balance again after such a long break.

She’s sitting in the park reading one of her text books on her first day off of the week. It’s a big step for her to be outside and in public while she studies instead of cramped inside her room but the sunlight is comfortable and refreshing, keeping her awake as she reads through a chapter on body types. It’s quite nice, despite the slight nip on the breeze and she’s only occasionally distracted by a cute dog trotting past. Her eye is all but healed by now, the ache gone and the bruising subsided though its still a little red around the edges.

As she finishes up her last notes for the chapter, a shadow falls over her and she feels the unease begin to build in her stomach until she glances up and catches sight of Clarke’s gentle smile.

“Heard from a little birdie you were chilling in the park. Mind if I sit with you for a while?” She doesn’t wait for Lexa’s response, plopping down on the bench and relaxing into the uncomfortable wooden slats. “So what you studying today?”

Lexa surprises herself with how much information she’s retained when she begins to reiterate the chapter details to Clarke, who nods along with a pensive look. It’s strangely helpful being able to speak about what she’s studying instead of just writing it down and Clarke’s attentive face and encouraging smiles are certainly much more helpful than rereading her own handwriting until her eyes water.

“My mother is a doctor, she might have some old physiology textbooks you can have if you want? Its not like she needs them anymore, she’s more a pencil pusher these days since...since dad died. They offered her a job as a consultant rather than a surgeon and she took it after coming back – ten thousand a year more just to sit at a desk? It’s a no brainer. I think she misses the practicality of operating but she’s not that person anymore – its not right for her to put other people at risk when she can’t perform like she used to.”

Lexa doesn’t interrupt but she listens with rapt attention, her notes completely forgotten. It’s the most she’s heard Clarke talk of her mother and certainly the most neutral she’s ever been when speaking of the other woman and as Clarke stares over the little path in front of them to the trees on the other side, she seems to be in a whole other world, eyes unfocused, gaze lost. It takes her a couple of seconds, but she snaps out of it with a minute shake and turns her eyes back to Lexa. “I’m going to see her, in a week. I wasn’t going to say anything – I don’t want to make a big deal out of it but...” she trails off, mouth remaining open, words on the tip of her tongue ready to spill

out but she holds them back. “I’m genuinely nervous. Really nervous, actually. I haven’t seen her in nearly a year, can you believe that? It’s insane.” She sighs, although it comes out more of a huff and slumps over to lean against Lexa’s shoulder. “But its only for lunch and I can handle that. Two hours at most of her being a passive-aggressive bitch and then I can come home, have a long bath and sleep for like, twelve hours or however long I can manage before I need to get up and pee.”

Lexa nods along, carefully closing her notebook with one hand and slipping it into her open backpack that sits by her feet. She wants to put an arm around Clarke, comfort her and hold her but she’s still so confused with everything, unsure of where they stand on what is acceptable. Clarke is a tactile person, loves to be able to touch people when she can but whether she’s receptive to other people touching her remains to be seen. Her nerves crawl up from the pit of her stomach but with just one glance at Clarke’s downtrodden expression, Lexa pushes them down and throws her arm around Clarke, pulling her into a side hug.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine. If you need support you know that I’m here for you and Anya and Raven too. You’re a very strong person, Clarke.” Her voice is full of conviction, stronger than she would sound when talking about something to do with herself. Clarke’s small smile as she tucks her head into Lexa’s neck is a reward in and of itself, though she doesn’t expect anything for supporting her...what was Clarke to her? She nudges the thought away and just revels in the comfortable position she’s in. Eventually she checks her watch, realising that they’d been sitting there for about twenty five minutes, just basking in each others’ presence and watching the world go by. If she could spend the rest of her life like this, she’d be quite happy.

Eventually she decides they need to move – she needs some food and should really not put off her reading any later - but when she glances down to tell Clarke, she realises the other woman has her eyes closed in contentment, looking so relaxed in the warm afternoon sun. She looks completely at ease, all loose muscles and little smile and Lexa can’t look away from the perfectly adorable person cuddled into her side. She doesn’t think as she tilts her head down slightly to press a light kiss to Clarke’s temple. “I think it’s about time for something to eat. I’ve been out here for hours now.”

Clarke hums and presses herself closer to Lexa, now wrapping her arms around her torso. “Can you stay here for just a few more minutes? You’re really helping me find my chill again. And you’re nice to hug.”

Well, Lexa, touch-starved and wholly gay certainly isn’t going to argue against such a request. They sit for another fifteen minutes until Clarke finally stands up, rubbing at her hip and complaining that park benches are far too uncomfortable. “C’mon, if you’re hungry there’s a nice burger place about a block over. My treat! Gotta get you some brain food.”

Lexa chuckles and zips up her bag, throwing it over her shoulder. “How can I argue with that? Lead on.”  
  


* * *

  
Lexa is fine walking to the restaurant and she’s fine ordering her plain hamburger and she’s fine sitting down to eat. Yet, when she lifts her food to her mouth, something seems to rip out from the back of her mind, a sudden, almost paralysing paranoia of being watched. Her eyes drift and make contact briefly with another pair across the room before she glances back to Clarke, like making port in a storm, slowing down her panicked breathing. Clarke hasn’t noticed, gazing contemplatively out the window and if Lexa were of a better mind she would’ve sighed over how beautiful Clarke looked. Instead, she’s starting to panic as she glances back over at the other table and sees the girl whose eye’s she had caught was looking at her again, but this time so were her two friends. She ducks her head down, trying to breathe steadily in through her nose and out through her mouth. It wasn’t anything to worry about – she didn’t recognise any of those people, so why would they be looking at her? They could be looking out the window, or maybe looking at someone behind her or even looking at Clarke. She tries to rationalise it, stomps down on the uneasy feeling roiling in her gut and decides to take her mind off it by taking an almost violent bite out her burger. She startles a little when Clarke laughs, feels a little bit of the tension ease out of her hunched shoulders.

“What did that burger ever do to you?” Clarke has finished her burger and is eating her fries, fingers greasy and smudged with sauce and hair starting to fall out of the loose ponytail she had it up in. Lexa can’t think of a more beautiful human being.

“It insulted my sensibilities. I couldn’t let that stand.” Lexa responds after she finishes chewing and Clarke giggles again, waving a fry at her.

“Of course not. How very dare it. You show that burger who the boss is around here.” Clarke’s stern tone makes Lexa smile around her next mouthful of burger and she’s almost forgotten about the previous panic with the other table until she catches them all still staring out of the corner of her eye. She swallows too early and starts to choke a little, but recovers as smoothly as one can from such an ordeal and sips on her coke to cover up. She’s not as good as she thinks she is at hiding her worry because Clarke has a hand stretched out across the table a moment later, touching lightly at her wrist.

“Hey, you alright? You sudden looked terrified before you choked there.”

Instead of thanking Clarke or waving it off Lexa mumbles out “Do you know them?” in a small, fragile tone. Clarke frowns at her but follows her gaze and glances to her left to look at the other table who all quickly look down at their phones.

“Never seen them before in my life. They giving you looks? Do you want me to have a word?” Her tone is cold at the end and Lexa grabs her hand in a panic.

Her tone is cold at the end and Lexa grabs her hand in a panic.

“No no, its fine. Its nothing, I’m just overreacting. I do that sometimes. A lot. I do that a lot.” She looks at Clarke, silently pleading and Clarke is nothing short of a delight as she turns her hand over to thread their fingers together.

“Its okay. You don’t have to explain. Just breathe and finish your burger and we can go back outside. Would it be better outside? Or do you just want to go somewhere quieter?” Her tone is easy, light enough to be seen as a casual remark but there’s a worried undertone that shows she really does care.

“Somewhere quieter. Or home. Just...somewhere away from other people. Please.”

Clarke nod and stands, leaving her half eaten fries on the tray and picks up Lexa’s backpack with ease. “I know just the place. Can I hold your hand on the way there?”

Its not a question Lexa is expecting and it gives her pause. She’s never been keen on public displays of affection and after the incident when golfing with Anya, she’s incredibly wary about doing anything remote gay in public. Clarke takes note of her hesitation and quickly lets go, but her smile is reassuring.

“Don’t worry, we don’t have to. Whenever you’re ready; we go at your pace.” She leads them out the store, putting herself on Lexa’s right, shielding her from the strange table of people who kept looking over at them.

Lexa understands she doesn’t really know Clarke all too deeply yet, but she’s never been more grateful for the kindness of her soul, the gentle nature with which she interacts with Lexa. She’s always calm, understanding and never patronising and Lexa doesn’t know she can ever show how grateful she is for the other woman. For the moment though, she thinks she can endure holding her hand while they walk down the street, as a small sign of thanks at the very least.

Clarke looks at her when she entwines their fingers again, raises a brow in question, but never asks it out loud. Lexa just keeps facing forward, concentrating on keeping one foot in front of another and not thinking about the blush on her cheeks that feels like its melting down through to her bones. Besides, despite her shyness and nervous blush, Clarke is smiling at her like she just produced a puppy from her pocket and there’s nothing better than that.  
  


* * *

  
“This is where you live?”

Lexa is surprised as she walks around the apartment. She thought it would be messy – she’s not sure why but she just got that vibe from Clarke. She’s an artistic person; one of those flighty ever- moving souls and thought a chaotic living environment would come with that. Instead, the place is almost spotless, bright and clean, decorated in neutral colours. It’s a hipsters wet dream with plants on the windowsill and bookcase and minimalist furniture, probably from ikea.

“That’s exactly what Anya said too.” Clarke muses from the open plan kitchen, where she’s just turned the kettle on. “Feel free to explore; I’ve got nothing to hide in here. Well, apart from some canvases...” she trailed off and glances suspiciously towards her bedroom. “If a canvas is covered, I only ask you don’t uncover it.”

Despite now being ridiculously curious, Lexa nods as she wanders through the living room, pausing to look at the bookcase. “Of course. I respect your privacy Clarke.”

She almost doesn’t hear Clarke’s responding ‘thanks’, too busy looking through all the different books there are. It’s a bit of a jumble, the only thing that is – fiction and non-fiction, paper back and hard back all mingling and mixing with no clear order to them. There’s science fiction, young adult, historical dramas and graphic novels interspersed with art guides and the occasional organic chemistry textbook. On some shelves, there’s magazines, something arty that Lexa has never heard of before, the front covers to which are all a matt finish of one colour with a single image in the centre.

She’s running her fingers across the broad leaves of the plant on the shelf when Clarke returns, setting two mugs down on the large table in front of the biggest window in the wall. “I’ve got some work to do, so you’re welcome to study here if you want. Or you can watch TV or read or whatever. Mi Casa is your casa or whatever.”

Lexa doesn’t bother correcting her, endeared by the cheeky grin and little shrug Clarke gives her before she heads off to collect her work. With one last glance around, Lexa takes a seat at one end of the table and begins to spread out the books and notebooks she’d taken with her and decides now wouldn’t be a bad to time to start her plan for the rest of the semester.

Clarke returns a few moments later with a large A3 sketchbook and a canvas roll full of pencils and loose charcoal. Her fingers are already smudged with the stuff and she’s now got her hair up in a bun and a different top on – this one an oversized paint-stained white tee. She doesn’t look up as she opens to a new page, filled with different sketches of faces and animals and flowers and selects her first pencil, something wide and thick with soft lead. Lexa loses her self in watching Clarke sketch – its happened before, on the occasion Clarke has sketched at the apartment but there’s always something mesmerising in the way she did it. She’s all about smooth movements; always seems to be flowing, even when she changes to shorter strokes or a finer pencil with a more steady hand. Her eyes narrow, become intense and her tongue peeks out from between her

teeth when she’s really lost in the moment and overall, its better than any TV show Lexa has watched in the last two years.

Eventually she drags her gaze away from a zoned Clarke and back to her own work and the mug of warm tea – milk and two sugars, just how she likes it – she has one hand wrapped around. Although she was a little on edge about being here, being in Clarke’s apartment, her sanctuary, she feels surprisingly at home, settled in the chair at this wooden table, with her work spread about her as if it were home.

She glances back up at Clarke then, the gears in her mind turning and whirling as she comes to the conclusion – it feels like home because that’s what Clarke is. Home. It’s the same feeling that fills her to the brim whenever she’s with Anya, that level of contentment and warmth, of pure safety and ease.

They are Home.

The revelation doesn’t floor her, like she’d expect it to do. It sits in her chest and blossom out and what spreads through her isn’t the same kind of giddy warmth she gets from being to close to them or the content kind of warmth where everything is settled and calm and just right. Its new and invigorating, uplifting and she wonders how long it will last. She feels fit to burst and she can’t help the smile that’s spreading across her face and quickly lifts the mug to her lips with both hands in an attempt to hide how goofy she probably looks right now.

Opposite her, Clarke huffs, blows a loose curl of hair out of her face then rubs at her eye with the heel of her hand, oblivious to it all and Lexa wouldn’t have it any other way.


	11. Routine

The alarm starts screeching at precisely 6am and Lexa knows it is not going to be a good day. Sometimes on waking, she can feel the rot in her bones, the ache in her soul that saps all life from her. Everything is heavy and gritty, completely uncomfortable and it’s hard to reconcile this poorly functioning flesh prison with herself. She is this body, it is hers. She doesn’t feel tethered to it in anyway and by the time she’s forced herself into moving, the secondary alarm starts to blare, making her skin crawl. She shuts it off as quickly as she can and gets out from under the covers before she falls back asleep in an attempt to escape the gross feeling across her skin.

Her shower is longer than anticipated, but she’s glad she managed to get up before 7am so she knows she’ll be on time to her first class of the semester. She tries to push the thoughts of stiflingly hot lecture theatres, crowds of chatting students, the constant movement and noise of campus from her mind and concentrate of the strict routine of getting ready. Drying herself off, picking out her clothes for the day, taking her meds, applying a little bit of make-up. Her hair takes forever to dry and after a while she gives up, the heat and noise grating inside her skull like loose pebbles rattling about. She braids it, letting the methodical movement calm her trembling hands.

Eventually, she emerges from her room, satchel slung over one shoulder and heads to try and eat something despite the nausea that has settled in her stomach since she woke up. Anya is already up, sitting at the little table in the kitchen with a plate of eggs, fork in one hand and a book in the other. Her glasses sit perched on the end of her nose and her hair is up in a loose bun. She’s obviously not been up long, still in sleep shorts and a loose tee-shirt, and although Lexa has seen her like this too many times to count, she still stalls in the doorway, one hand gripping the strap of her bag tightly. She’s drawn in like a magnet, a sunflower to the sun, a moth to the flame. Anya barely glances up before mumbling a quiet good morning when Lexa all but collapses onto her back, face pressed into the bare skin between shoulder and neck, nose brushing her collarbone.

“You’ll be fine. Have a plate of eggs and listen to your music.” Anya’s words aren’t patronising or dismissive, but they gently coax Lexa into action and she (with only mild reluctance) scoops the eggs that are left in the pan onto a plate and takes the opposite seat. She eats slowly, not entirely sure how much is wise to eat when it’s possible she’ll just chuck it all up later in the university bathrooms. It wouldn’t be the first time and she’s sure it wouldn’t be the last either. She lets her mind wander and it takes her several moments to realise that her free hand is no longer sitting curled next to her plate, but interlinked with Anya’s own.

“You can text me if things get too much. Clarke too. We’re all available today, we all have the flexibility to shoot off for an early break if we need to.” When she sees Lexa open her mouth to respond, Anya quick keeps talking. “Its not an inconvenience and it’s already been prepared. Maybe it’s a little patronising and presumptuous but we just want to be able to help if you need it. We’ll worry otherwise.”

Lexa turns her eyes down to the worn tabletop, tracing the little ridges and cracks instead of looking at Anya’s earnest expression. “I don’t mean to make you worry.”

“Doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen.” Anya responds, but still she keeps her warm grip on Lexa’s hand. “We know you don’t want to make us worry but we will anyway. It’s what friends do. It’s what...what we do. Whatever we are.” Her voice is a little strained, smile a tad too forced but Lexa knows she’s trying and returns it as best she can.

“Okay.”

She finished up her breakfast in silence after that, Anya having already finished hers and swapped her book to her other hand so she can continue holding Lexa’s. There’s a comfortable domesticity to the set-up that has Lexa’s heart stuttering with something other than anxiety and she lets herself be swept up in it right till the last minute before her final alarm sounds and she finally gets up and pulls her shoes on.

“Text me, okay? Even if you’re having a great time.”

Lexa pauses in the doorway and glances over her shoulder to shoot Anya an amused look. “I think we both know I’m not going to be having a ‘great time’.”

“You never know.”  
  


* * *

  
She did know. She knew fine well that the day wouldn’t ever be great and would, at best, sluggishly crawl towards acceptable. The first class was surprisingly quiet, the professor droning on about textbooks and course materials and then using a silly little slideshow with gratuitous amounts of clip art to showcase what they’d be learning. She’d found a nice nook in the corner of the room, pressed against the wall but in the row in front of the fire exit, meaning she could hop over the back of the seat to get out if she needed to. She had back-to-back lectures in this room until midday so she was pleased to secure a place at the start.

When the first lecture finishes, about 80% of the class leave with the professor, leaving only a few others scattered about. Lexa recognises a few of them, though she’s not spoken to anyone more than the usual greetings in tutorials or bare minimum in emails for group projects. So she’s certainly not expecting it when a group of three sit down next to her.

“Hey, Lexa right?”

She feels everything inside her pinch with sudden anxiety, the cold dread shooting down to the tips of every limb like a lightning strike through her veins. She clenches her hands and glances up, steeling her face to a cool mask of indifference, something she had gotten used to back in high school. It wasn’t that she was averse to making friends, but it had rarely gone well previously.

“Yes. You are?” She knows her words are clipped and a little rude, but the other girl seems

unbothered. Her smile stays the same, not quite a grin but the white of her teeth peek from between plump lips easily. Something about her seems familiar, from her expressive chocolate brown eyes and pretty round face to her curly hair and nose piercing, but Lexa just assumes she’s maybe let her stupidly gay gaze been drawn to the other girl in a previous class or two.

“Oof, straight in the heart.” The girl mocks being struck; both hands flying over her chest as she leans back dramatically in her chair. Lexa tries her best not to let her lips quirk in slight amusement. “I’m Costia. I was in your group for developmental psychology last year.” After a brief pause she seems to snap out of a slight trance and glance over her shoulder. “This is Artigas and Echo.” The other two wave, looking mildly amused, though unbothered by the fact introductions have been made for them. “They’re dumb but they’re my friends, so there’s not much I can do about that apart from keep them out of trouble.”

The one called Echo snorts. She’s pretty too, Lexa thinks absently, looking over straight brunette hair and a slender figure accentuated by tight jeans and a plain cotton tee shirt. Artigas was a broad guy and although Lexa was sure he could do well in a sport like football or rugby, it didn’t appear he partook in them. His hair was long, pulled back in a tight manbun and his fingers clean and well manicured; neither of which pointed towards a strict sport regime. “We saw you at the burger place the other week and I was going to say hello but these two told me not to interrupt your date.”

“Oh.” Lexa’s a little taken aback, but everything about her is fighting to stay on edge, despite the friendliness this stranger is showing her. She tries her best to maintain indifference, but her curiosity shows through in an unconscious head tilt. “It wasn’t a date.” Goddamn it, why was that the first thing out of her mouth? It wasn’t a date though...was it? She wasn’t sure in all honesty and they hadn’t had the chance to spend much time together again in the two weeks that had passed. “I mean...I don’t know what it was.” She should probably shut up now. The theatre is starting to fill up again and the lecturer leaning heavily against the podium, obviously dreading this semester as much as the students. “Why would you want to talk to me though?”

At this Costia seems to soften considerably. Though she has been full of almost untethered energy up till now, she sinks back into her seat still tilting towards Lexa with a gentle smile on her face. “You always sit on your own. No matter the class, you’re alone. In the library, you’re alone.” She glances down at her legs, bare save for denim cut-offs. Lexa follows her gaze before immediately snapping it back up to look down to the front of the theatre. She tries her best to retain her unaffected demeanour but in reality, the words shred at her heart and she can feel the prickle of tears at the edge of her eyes. She blinks furiously to fend them off, hands curling into fists here they rest on her thighs. She was alone. She had always been alone, sitting quietly in her own little pocket of the world, studying and fighting to the best of her abilities. There’s comfort in numbers, or so she’s been told, and she wonders how much easier the previous years would have been with even just one person beside her.

Instantly Anya’s face springs to mind, eyes crinkled at the edges with affection, whether accompanied with a smirk or small smile or wide grin. She thinks back to all the nights spent studying where Anya would appear with a cup of coffee far too late at night (or early in the morning) and a quiet reassurance that she’d be fine and the suggestion to get some sleep when she could. The times where she’s been picked up from the library in Anya’s car when it was raining or snowing or outright storming. The times where she would have gone days without eating if it hadn’t been for the older woman.

She’s never truly been alone.

“I just thought you’d like a friend. Or well, three. We kind of come as a bundle.” Something about Costia is warm and inviting, like a blanket on a cold night. She just gives off the aura of someone who would make a good friend. Behind her Artigas sits with his arms crossed, but manages to send a small nod towards her. Echo seems unbothered by the whole thing, her textbook and notebook already open and ready and eyes concentrating on the lecturer who has opened up yet another powerpoint presentation.

“I already have friends.” She can see Raven and Lincoln, Harper and Monroe, Jasper and Monty and Murphy and even Octavia and Bellamy and of course, Clarke and Anya. She’s not short on friends really, when she thinks about it.

She sees the other girl’s expression fall quickly and hastens to correct herself. “Doesn’t mean I’m not open to more.”

Costia’s eyes practically sparkle and she opens her mouth to respond when the lecturer begins to speak into the microphone. They all turn their attention back to the front of the room, though Lexa is minutely aware that Costia is still twisted towards her.

The class passes relatively quickly. Despite this professor’s monotone voice and tired eyes, he already starts talking about exams and essays that will be due and what weeks to expect tests to check up on progress. Practical Psychology wasn’t going to be a walk in the park but Lexa had been counting on that from the start.

Halfway through a droning explanation on the importance of following the APA referencing guide, Lexa’s phone buzzes aggressively against the desk. She thinks it’s a call at first but then notices her screen come to live with several message alerts in quick succession, all from Clarke. She tries to hold back her smile, but its impossible when she reads the silly rambling messages and accompanying overuse of emojis and a quick selfie of Clarke with her lips puckered as if blowing a kiss to the phone, obviously in the middle of cleaning up after her last client with latex gloves still on her hands and the chair bare of any protective sheet. Lexa feels the apprehension over all the future assessments slip away as she stares at Clarke’s smile and in a whim of affection, quickly sets it as her phone background. She already has a photo of herself and Anya as the lockscreen, so it seemed only fair that Clarke be her background. Besides, what is better than constantly seeing that face whenever she opens up her phone?

“Is she your girlfriend? She’s very beautiful.” Costia is looking over with a small smile, a little awkward but in no way hostile. Lexa glances over with slight trepidation then back down to her phone.

“Yeah. I think so anyway. We haven’t quite gotten to the stage of sorting out names for whatever this is.” The uncertainty over what to call it still feels wrong to her. It feels like something rough moving under her skin, discomfort she wants to literally rip out from inside of herself but for now will have to settle for pushing to the back of her mind and hoping that they’ll sort it out soon.

Costia hums and looks back to her notes, though there’s not much written down in her notebook, just a few short phrases and a couple of swirling doodles. They all fell quiet and watch the lecture before Artigas startles them all by groaning and flopping back dramatically. “This is the dullest introduction class I’ve ever had.” He mutters quietly and Lexa has to press a fist to her lips to hold back a small bubble of laughter. Who knew this stoic bulk of a man would be a whiney child when it came to boring classes. Echo whacks him on the arm and shoves at his phone, which sits on the small desk in front of him. “Follow hearteyes’ example over there and play with your phone like a normal person.”

Lexa blushes and glances down at her phone, trying not to look too embarrassed but ultimately

smiling despite it. There was something pleasing in the knowledge that her affection for Clarke was so plainly obvious, even if it was only from looking at silly emoji images.

The rest of the class passes fast enough and by the end of the day, Lexa is surprisingly content with the time she’s spent with her new friends. Costia demands they exchange phone numbers and then adds Lexa to a group chat with even more people she’s never met (“Don’t worry,” Costia has assured her when she received the alert, “they won’t even notice there’s a new person, the chat moves so fast. Just mute the notifications and only use it if you want to chat or need help with a project or something!”) and they part ways with an amicable wave and promises to sit in the same spot for the next lectures they had together.

The routine continues for the next month and Lexa finds herself enjoying their company. Her life gains a solid structure, each week passing with relatively the same events though occasionally something different will happen, like going over to Clarke’s for dinner or hanging out at Raven’s or spending a four-hour study session in the library with Costia and some of her friends. For someone who is ridiculously inattentive in class, Costia is surprisingly good at studying and helping others study too. Lexa’s previous apprehension falls away and she finds herself enjoying her time hanging out with the little group. She has one day where her anxiety envelops her and is thankful its on a day she shares no classes with them, able to slip away and return home to the safety of her bed and then later, Anya’s arms without question.

Anya asks her about her new friends with a certain level of discomfort but is quietly supportive regardless of whatever her own feelings are about them. She remains Lexa’s stoic sentinel – occasionally driving her to and from campus and joining her for lunch in the campus café on the longer days. The first time Artigas meets her, he drops the latte he had just purchased and stumbles over his words, awkwardly brushing at his loose hair. Lexa doesn’t hold back the grin that takes over her face, an expression born of amusement and pride. Anya tended to have such an effect on people during first meetings and whether their stuttering was the result intimidation from Anya’s ridiculously good looks or terrifying glare, Lexa’s chest swells with pride and affection.

When in public, there’s an uncertainty to Anya and Lexa. They walk close to each other but if their hands brush, they drift apart slightly. The memories of their first date sit heavily between them in every public interaction and Lexa hates that her anxiety turns to fully fledged fear every time someone looks at them for a tad too long. She hates that the actions of one bigot had left such an impression on her, resents the hurdle it’s created in their relationship that she just can’t overcome. Anya is patient as always, never pushing and still protective, sending glares towards anyone who she perceives as a potential threat and moving away when she senses Lexa’s apprehension. Lexa’s grateful for it, she really is, but a part of her desperately wants Anya to push the boundary, to grab her hand or wrap and arm around her without hesitation and force them to get over it.

Similarly, things with Clarke haven’t progressed any further either. She’s still not brought herself round to asking if she could call Clarke her girlfriend (and never planned to ask Anya because the phrase felt too childish, almost petty for the deeper connection they had). Her growing frustration with her inability to initiate in the relationships made her tense and irritable at times and inevitably, the overthinking began. She doubted everything, from why the girls wanted to be with her to why she couldn’t wrangle her anxiety to the ground for more than 30 minutes to have a serious discussion with them about the relationships. It was the catalyst for another spiral downwards, yet another lacklustre section of her life where her doubts and fears and useless, insufferable brain refused to cooperate and she dealt with it in the worst way possible – by avoiding them.

Hindsight is 20/20 and a week later, Lexa knows that she should have gone to Anya or Clarke or even Raven and tried to sort it out before it became a Thing. Yet she didn’t and the black cloud over her head grew and grew and she was swept up in the storm until it all came to a head in the library one night.

She’d spent the past week in the library whenever she could in a desperate attempt to avoid Clarke and Anya. They knew midterms were coming up, assumed her absence was a result of the need to study and kept up their encouraging texts every time she was out the apartment. She knew they had her best interests at heart, knew with crystal clarity that they just want to support her and also knew that if she didn’t sort herself out this would happen again every damn time she got stuck in the twisting maze of self-doubt. She crammed into a tiny corner of the library around 11pm at night, on a small table made only for one. Her laptop and books are spread out, giving the illusion of productivity but the most she’s done all night is cry and listen to music. The library is dead, especially the end she’s in, and she’s really not expecting the gentle tap on her shoulder when she has her head pressed face down onto folded arms. Her heart jolts, shatters into pure energy and everything feels too sharp and too keen when she sits up and blinks at the florescent lights and Costia’s surprised and worried face.

“Hey.” She steps to the side, to give Lexa the space needed to shift her chair back and gather herself; brushing tears away with trembling fingertips, combing back unruly and unwashed hair from her face and hiding it under her hood. Eventually, Lexa sets her hands back on the table though with her anxiety in full swing, she can’t keep them still; drifting over the edge of books, rolling a pen, folding the corner of her notebook repeatedly. The touch helps ground her, helps keep her mind from darting between ever little observation she’s making. When she doesn’t speak, Costia perches herself awkwardly on the edge of the desk, making sure not to sit on anything. “I didn’t realise it was you crying, Lex. What’s going on? Are you alright?”

Lexa diverts her gaze, feeling too bare in front of gently inquisitive eyes. Her leg starts to bounce, her whole body incapable of remaining still, a reflection of the frantic pace of her mind. She’s known Costia a month know, hung out with her and the others enough times to call them firm friends but still this is too much, a peek too far into the part of her personality that she’d rather keep hidden away.

When she realises she’s not going to get a response, Costia tries again. “Do you have anxiety, Lexa?”

“And depression.” Lexa responds almost immediately, cursing the lack of filter between her brain and her mouth sometimes. “Two-for-one deal, how lucky for me.” She traces the lines of her notebook, tries to count them out in her head, backwards and forwards as her fingers drift up and down the page. The silence is heavy, awkward, and Lexa regretted a lot that has happened in her life, but this sits pretty high up on the list. “Listen, it’s fine. Just don’t worry, I’ll get through this. I always do.” Her laugh is forced, an awkward little chuckle that practically wrenches its way out from the back of her throat. Costia doesn’t move.

“So you’re having a bad time of it at the moment and hiding out here?”

“Very perceptive.” Lexa bites back, glancing up with a small scowl but diverting her gaze quickly enough when she sees the outright pity painted across Costia’s face. She feels the bile at the back of her throat, burning down her oesophagus and straight into the nauseous waves of her stomach. If this continued much longer, she was going to be sick.

She hears Costia make a noise of pity, a little murmur of ‘Oh Lexa’ before her hand comes to rest on Lexa’s shoulder. She wants to shrug it off, slap it off, tear it off, the touch unwelcome and

uncomfortable. A little part of her knows Costia is trying and it instantly chastises the rest of her frazzled mind, but it doesn’t get much further than the bitter disappointment that she is not Clarke or Anya.

Finally, after what feels like hours of sitting with her shoulders tense and hunched, Costia pulls away and stands up.

“Your phone is ringing. If it’s Clarke or your roommate, please answer it,” Costia all but implores her, expression still sickeningly pitying but her eyes are wide and frightened and Lexa grits her teeth, jaw working for a few minutes before she finally snatches up her vibrating phone and answers with a croaky ‘Hello’ that practically screams of tears and turmoil.

The line remains silent for all of two seconds before Clarke’s voice rings out, stern and low. “Are you at the library? I’m coming to get you.” There’s rustling on the other end of the line, a loud thumping noise following and then the slam of a door. “Anya said you weren’t at home and I thought you could do with a study break but I didn’t think you’d be crying. Goddamn it Lexa, how many times do I have to tell you? I’m here for you. No matter how trivial, no matter how silly you think it is, I’m there. Not because of obligation but because I want to be there for you, I want to be able to brush your tears away and hold you and support you and make sure you never feel alone again.”

God, what was it about Clarke’s words that broke her? Without fail, every time Clarke opens her heart to her, Lexa can’t hold in the emotion and the sob that rips from her throat has Costia instantly rushing forward to wrap her arms around her shoulders. She coos softly, gentle mumbling words of support as she rocks them from side to side gentle while Lexa desperately fights against the onslaught of tears she thought had dried out almost an hour ago. On the other end of the phone she can hear Clarke also trying to talk to her, soft quiet tones of deep affection that sink into her soul and soon she’s calmed down enough to sniff away the last dribbling tears away. She reaches up with her free hand and grips Costia’s forearm in a silent form of thanks, hoping the other girl can read it in her face. Costia, for her part, is surprisingly calm yet there’s a light shine across her own eyes. “I take it Clarke is coming to get you?”

She nods and tries to speak but her voice breaks and cracks and she thinks better of it. Costia nods back at her before turning back to the table and beginning to tidying everything away, stacking books and shuffling papers. Lexa knows its messing up all her notes, her carefully made spider diagrams and info sheets mixed and mingling with rewritten notes and practice answers, but she can’t muster the energy to complain. She’d been snippy and cold to Costia this evening and all the other girl had done was sit and wait. Lexa still resents the pity she saw, but crushes it down and forces herself to let it go.

Ten minutes later, they’re standing outside the library, leaning against the wall to the parking lot. It’s definitely moving out of summer and well into Autumn now, the air cool and pleasantly refreshing on her overheated skin. Costia talks at her, rambling about dull things that are probably intended to be distracting than interesting and Lexa appreciates the thought at least. When she sees Clarke’s battered jeep pull up, Costia falls quickly silent and moves away, suddenly nervous and shifting. “Stay safe, okay?” Lexa nods absently, too busy watching as Clarke slams the door shut behind her and jogs over to them. Her hair is loose around her shoulders but darker than normal, still wet from what Lexa suspects was a shower. She’s wearing pyjama pants with little spaceships on them and her light military jacket over a paint-stained tee. Lexa doesn’t even notice that Costia has quietly slipped away, the other girl all but completely forgotten as she steps forward and directly into Clarke’s arms.

She’s enclosed and safe and finally home for the first time in well over a week and even with the

heavy limbed exhaustion that only comes from a long cry, she smiles against the fabric of Clarke’s jacket. Under her ear she can hear Clarke’s heartbeat, the quick pace a mimic of her own and she knows she needs to do it now, riding on the quick upward swell that is sure to crash again soon as the tides of her mind continually shift and change.

“I want us to be girlfriends or partners or whatever. Together, officially. I want to be able to show people photos of you and say ‘This is my girlfriend Clarke, I lo-like her a lot.‘” She swerves her words at the last minute, panicked rambling nearly throwing her into a pit that it’s far too early to be entering. Clarke pretends not to notice, but Lexa knows she caught the near-slip up too from the flex in muscle under her hands.

“Girlfriends, huh? It does have a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

And in that moment, everything settles, falls into place perfectly. The planets align, the skies clear, and before she can even comprehend it, Lexa’s surged forward to press her lips to Clarke’s in a firm kiss with a sense of confidence that perfectly masks the wardrum of her heart. It’s mild at first, just a returning pressure and shifting hands before she pulls back to tilt her head for a better angle and then it really sets in for her. Clarke’s tongue emerges, teases her bottom lip and she’s nothing if not completely and utterly taken with the all-consuming nature of the kiss. It grows, builds bit by bit, and what starts as something soft and vulnerable soon takes on the sharp edge of desperation as her fingers sink into locks of damp blonde hair and she feels responding pressure at the back of her neck, blunt fingernails digging in. The happiness that blooms across her chest in warm coils of excitement trickles through her bones down to the marrow and she feels like a supernova about to burst, building energy and anticipation and a desperate need to feel more overpowering anything else. She’s not felt this alive in a long time, surging with electricity down to the tips of her fingers that positively burn where she can feel Clarke’s soft skin and doesn’t hold back a needy moan when Clarke’s tongue sweeps across her own before she pulls back enough to pull Lexa’s bottom lip between her teeth and stare at her with hooded eyes.

Lexa groans and pulls Clarke back towards her. She knows her grip is probably a tad too tight in Clarke’s hair but the other girl doesn’t seem bothered and instead grins as she moves back in to start the dance again, slowing them down to a languid pace that feels far too filthy and intense for the library parking lot. The reminder of where they are forces her to release her grasp and Clarke’s disappointed groan almost makes her reconsider before she pulls back enough to break it off. “We’d uh...we’d better get home.”

“Stay at mine tonight.” Clarke breathes out, one had still on the back of Lexa’s neck, toying absently with the loose curls there and the other drifting up from her lower back. Lexa hesitates for a minute and Clarke’s predatory smirk settles into a gentler expression. “I want you nearby and Anya has already gone to bed.”

“Just kissing?” Lexa asks warily but Clarke’s blinding smile soothes away any concern. “Just kissing or cuddling. Whatever you want. Whatever you need.”

What she really needed at that moment was a horrendously cold shower, but she bites her tongue and mocks a reluctant sigh. “I guess that could be acceptable.”

They don’t end up doing more than exchanging lazy kisses after Lexa’s had her shower and they’re both lying in the bed, winding down to sleep. Lexa knows she’s going to crash and that tomorrow is going to be a bad day, but Clarke is wrapped around her, one arm folded across her collarbones and the other over her stomach and she feels at least a little protected from what is to come.


End file.
